Top of the World
by SaraSaturday
Summary: I'm new to fanfic, but I wanted to make a fun, non-romantic adventure for my otp, Science Bros. Polite, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading! TITLE IS PENDING. If this needs to be rated "M" for the strong language, please let me know. Thanks! All I know of weapons/science I learned from flicks and Wikipedia, btw.
1. Prologue in a Minimum Security Prison

He was in a leather motorcycle jacket and heavy black jeans. The clothes paired with his unruly black hair made him a stark figure against the white cinderblock wall. He surveyed the long room he'd just entered and counted two wives, three girlfriends, one boyfriend, a daughter and an ex-victim.

None of them looked back at him. They were busy talking to the people they'd come here to visit. Directly across from him was the person he'd come here to visit, staring through the reinforced glass with an obvious mixture of gratitude and shock.

Tony Stark lifted the receiver.

"Hello, beautiful. Miss me?"

Justin Hammer's eyebrows lowered and he glared at Tony.

"That's nice, Tony. Two and a half years I'm in here because of you and that's all you have to say to me? That's not very polite."

Tony didn't sit down. Instead, he leaned roguishly on the partition between him and the next visiting station.

"Last time I checked, Hammer, _you_ were the one who broke a psychotic Russian physicist out of a Monacan prison and sicced him on me. I didn't have anything to do with your arrest."

Tony didn't deign it appropriate to even justify Hammer's existence with a glance. He chose instead to casually survey his surroundings.

Hammer sat the receiver down on the counter before him and wiped his forehead on his arm, sifting through the myriad insults and slurs he wanted to throw at Tony. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"I didn't call you to pick a fight with you, Tony," he said, picking the receiver back up and grimacing. No, a smile. It was a smile. It just looked like a grimace.

"I know that, Hammer, but I already checked. You're not authorized for conjugal visits," said Tony, turning to smirk down at Hammer. Hammer was too busy stifling his frustration to reply, so Tony continued, "But you're so cute, I bet you made friends the first day here."

Hammer sighed, resigned, and rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand.

"Tony," he sighed. "This is federal prison. Everyone in here is a white collar criminal. I'm in here with fucking _tax dodgers_. There's no rape."

"Oh, sure. Of course not," said Tony, barely keeping in check his laughter at his own wit. "It's not rape when you want it."

"Fuck it, Tony!" shouted Hammer. "Shut up!"

Heads everywhere turned to the pair. Justin held up a passive hand and smiled.

"Everything's fine here. Happy. We're all happy here," he said, pushing the rage back down. "Everybody's hunky dory."

Tony plopped down in the seat, eyeing Hammer with his scientific curiosity. In a tone that was slightly softer than the one he usually employed, he said, "Why'd you bring me all the way down here, Hammer? What's going on?"

Hammer sighed again and wiped his face.

"I need your help."

Tony's face shifted to something akin to confusion. "I already sent you that cake with the file baked into it. Didn't you get it?"

Tony bit back a laugh because the look of exasperation Hammer shot him next reminded him eerily of one Pepper frequently gave him.

"Okay, what?" said Tony, settling comfortably into the chair. "I'm listening. No more jokes."

Hammer waited a long moment to ensure Tony didn't say anything else annoying before he began.

"Believe me, Tony. You are the, heh, the _last_ person I'd ever want to ask for help," he said, chuckling dryly.

"And you are the last person I'd ever want to help."

Another exchange of looks. Tony nodded for Hammer to continue.

"But I'm in a very, er, _particular_ situation and I think you're the only person remotely capable of handling it," said Hammer, looking as seriously at Tony as he could muster. "I had something stolen from me."

"What?"

"A weapon."

Tony sat up in his chair. Clearly, Hammer finally had his attention.

"All your assets were frozen or confiscated. Your factories are closed."

Hammer closed his eyes and bit his tongue. "Only the ones the government knows about."

"What is it?"

"Nuclear," Hammer whispered as softly as he could.

"You son of a bitch," Tony whispered, glaring at Hammer through the glass.

"I don't need a hippie lecture from Tony Stark," spat Hammer. "Just listen."

Tony glared and held his tongue.

"I was working on something big," said Hammer, tapping his fingers nervously on the counter. "I had a team from all over the world creating a nuclear version of your Jericho missile."

He paused to let Tony process the information. Tony was impassive, but underneath the calm, he was screaming.

"You wanna explain what that means, exactly, Justin?" said Tony, scratching his chin in an effort to stifle his urge to strangle Hammer.

"I called it The Devastator. It was a single package, a single one-ton air-to-ground missile that was to be shot from a specialized plane I was designing. Plutonium implosion type. It would split into fifty smaller missiles and land in a carefully organized pattern on the ground. When they were all in place, they'd simultaneously detonate."

As he explained it, even Hammer sounded ashamed of himself. With a hangdog look, he added, "It would be about a, er, a hundred megaton blast." Hammer looked up at Tony. "It'd take out an area the size of Texas. Nothing would survive. And nothing could live there for a half a million years."

Tony's hands trembled where they were folded across his chest. His heart pounded like a caged animal. It took every fiber of strength in his body not to break through the glass and tear Justin Hammer's head off.

"What the fucking fuck did you think you were doing, Hammer?" was all he could manage without screaming.

Hammer wiped his face with his wrist and groaned into the receiver. "I had a plan, okay?"

"No shit!"

"No, it wasn't like that. I was only going to make one. I was going to sell it to the United States government as their permanent nuclear deterrent, thus securing myself a prestigious position. Maybe Secretary of Defense."

They paused and eyed one another. Both of them knew the other was thinking back to a time Tony had jokingly said he'd consider that position if they offered it. That was him being condescending. This… this was just nuts.

"Tony, it's the most powerful weapon on the planet. It could destroy any nation in the world. And it's gone," sighed Hammer. "I am begging you to find it. You're the only person with the resources."

"Bullshit," spat Tony. "You're only asking me because you'll never see the light of day again if you go to the authorities."

"Tony, you _are_ the authorities, man. Come on."

"Where do I start?"


	2. The Top of the World Falls on You

_**(a/n: Edit 8-22-2012: I would like to thank everyone for the faves, reviews and helpful criticism. This update includes the smoothing out of minor issues, grammatical errors and continuity inconsistencies. Thanks again for your support. New chapter soon, I promise! In the meantime, please review. For every review this gets, Tony buys the Hulk a new pair of trunks!)**_

I

"Dr. Banner?"

"Hrrmmm?"

"Mr. Stark is currently galloping down the hallway with the intent of engaging your aide. I thought you would appreciate a gentler awakening than that."

Bruce Banner sat up in bed and looked around. The voice of Tony Stark's brilliant virtual butler echoed in his ears as the images from his dream flitted in front of his eyes. Something about palm trees and a beautiful brunette he dared not name.

Bruce had been staying at Stark Tower in New York for a total of thirteen days. He'd spent several months in Mexico and Guatemala doing his own version of Doctors without Borders before he found himself genuinely missing the companionship of Tony Stark. It was strange in ways he didn't even want to think about to miss someone when he'd spent years ensuring solitude was his only companion. Stranger still to actually contact Tony and ask if his offer to tour the tower's R&D department still stood. Strange bordered on surreal when Tony gave him an apartment and private lab for an indefinite period for his own private use. Bruce swore the time wouldn't exceed a fortnight, but both Tony and his beautiful girlfriend Pepper Pots encouraged Bruce to stay as long as he was comfortable. They seemed to enjoy his company more than he did theirs. Which was a lot.

A fist pounded on the door to Bruce's bedroom, stirring him from his meandering thoughts, a split second before the door was thrust open.

"Banner, I need you!"

Bruce stared blankly at Tony who stood over him, clutching stacks of files and a transparent digital Stark Industries tablet. A bead of sweat rolled from Tony's hairline to his cheek.

"Tony, I really appreciate getting to stay in your building, but I assumed the privilege included some privacy," said Bruce, adjusting the sheets around his stomach.

"You're not even naked, Banner. Get over it. This is important."

Bruce had to admit Tony looked awfully disconcerted for someone who was never disconcerted. This was, well, disconcerting.

A file landed on Bruce's lap and he picked it up with one hand, putting his glasses on with the other. Inside, there was the ID photo of a stern looking Asian man with wire-rimmed glasses perched on the very tip of his nose. His name was Dr. Meka Santhavisouk and he was a highly educated physicist. Suddenly Bruce saw why he was so necessary to whatever it was Tony was researching.

Reading over some of Santhavisouk's achievements, Bruce absentmindedly said, "I saw him give a talk once on the medical applications of plutonium."

"Isn't that a little old school?" said Tony. "I mean, nuclear medicine's been around a while."

Bruce looked up at Tony. "No," he said. "It was new. He was on the verge of a breakthrough. Something revolutionary."

"Did he make it?"

Bruce thought for a moment and he realized he hadn't seen or heard Santhavisouk's name since the talk he gave in the mid 90s. But then, Bruce spent a lot of time out of touch with the modern world. He shrugged in response to Tony's inquiry.

"Get dressed, Bruce. I need you."

That was all and Tony was gone.

Bruce didn't like sleeping that late anyway, but he'd been up half the night in the private lab Tony'd assigned him on the third R&D floor of Stark Tower. He was working on a theory that might lead to a dramatic increase of the arc reactor's energy output. Nothing revolutionary as it wasn't his specialty, but it would certainly make Tony some money if it succeeded and Bruce felt it was more than necessary to pay Tony back some of the kindness he'd shown to Bruce in the time he'd spent there.

In fifteen minutes, Bruce was showered and dressed and he joined Tony on his own private floor. It was only accessible to Tony, Pepper, and, more recently, Bruce. JARVIS welcomed him and bid him good morning as if it was the first time he'd spoken to Bruce. He smirked to himself wondering how independently JARVIS really could operate.

The sun shone brightly through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the space far better than any artificial light. "Paradise City" was playing at volume 11 over the loudspeakers that were seamlessly integrated into seemingly every object in the room. A robot tinkered with a small engine in the corner and several holographic screens displayed various half-pursued Tony Stark ideas in various stages of completion.

"Alright, Tony," said Bruce, stepping into the wide, bright space in the middle of the room. "What have you got for me?"

A swiveling desk chair spun out across the room and a hand rose up from it, beckoning for him to follow. With an eyeroll, he complied.

At a desk beside the window that looked out on the bay, Tony was twirling in his chair and alternately inhaling coffee and devouring the information in the files. Bruce joined him and examined the scene with concern.

"Tony?" he finally ventured.

"So good of you to make it," said Tony, not looking up. "Guess who called me this morning before the sun was up?"

"Loki?" sighed Bruce, leaning on the desk and looking down at Tony in all his nervous twitchiness.

"Don't be asinine," spat Tony, pushing the chair away from the desk and going for a twirl. "Justin Hammer."

Bruce paused. "The weapons manufacturer?"

"The one and only."

"Isn't he in prison for that whole thing with the guy who nearly killed you?"

"And trashed my dad's expo? Yes. He is. And that's where he'll stay if he knows what's good for him."

"He's not in prison to punish him," ventured Bruce, giving Tony his reluctant half smile. "He's in there to keep him safe from _you_?"

"Bingo," said Tony, shooting Bruce with an imaginary gun. "Guess what he _should_ be in there for."

"Should?" repeated Bruce. "I wanna guess it has something to do with your ego, so I'll venture to say, 'pissing you off?'"

Tony looked up from his coffee cup and gave Bruce a look of feigned injury. "Do you think so little of me, Bruce? I'm not petty. I've bigger fish to fry but sadly, there's someone introducing foreign species into the ecosystem."

"Tony, please, I'm tired," groaned Bruce, rubbing a throbbing place on his forehead.

Without further ado, Tony launched into Hammer's story and his request of Tony. With each new fact, Bruce's face moved from annoyance to disbelief to downright horror. His fingers absently traced the veins on the inside of his wrist as he listened, subconsciously keeping track of his heart rate.

"How could anyone in their right mind do something like that?" demanded Bruce, pacing nervously from the desk.

Tony gave an angry twirl and said, "No one ever said Hammer was smart. He's just a big baby who's jealous of me for thinking of everything first. He steals ideas from me for a living. Some would call it an arms race. Anyone who'd ever met Hammer would call it a pissing contest."

Bruce sat heavily down in a luxury modern chair and pulled his glasses off his face. He sat in a thoughtful silence while he rubbed his eyes.

"You're then asking me for help because radiation is my specialty?" he asked, wiping his glasses off on his shirttail in an effort to still his trembling fingers.

"You're the only nuclear physicist I know," said Tony, looking somewhat like a puppy.

Bruce knew better. Perhaps he was the only nuclear physicist Tony was _friends_ with. Was two weeks enough time to be considered that good of a friend? Although considering what they'd been through together only a few months before, Bruce wasn't too concerned about intimacy. The world needed saving. Again.

Glasses back in place, Bruce said, "How are we supposed to track down a superweapon like that?"

"JARVIS is already on it," said Tony dismissively, picking up another folder. "We need to plan our trip."

"Trip _where_?" said Bruce. He didn't bother protesting the "we." He was already on board.

"Siberia."

II

On the plane, Tony told Bruce every detail that Hammer had told him, everything Hammer's former personal assistant Jack had told him and all the records Tony could get released from evidence.

Hammer had bought an old Soviet laboratory and shipped six of the brightest minds in nuclear physics in the world to work there. The only reason he hadn't sought one Dr. Bruce Banner was because he wasn't anywhere on the face of the civilized world. The six scientists worked for five years in complete secrecy, testing different materials and detonation processes to determine the best yield to weight ratio. When Stark Industries debuted the Jericho missile a couple of years into the project, Hammer was inspired to create not only the world's most efficient nuclear weapon, but also the most creative and deadly of all time. He truly wanted the world to respect him.

At the same time, he commissioned a team of Swiss designers to begin work on a stealth plane that would be the bomb's delivery system. Theoretically, it would be completely invisible to everyone and undetectable to every defense system imaginable. The craft would carry the bomb and fire it. Chips on the mini missiles would guide them to their predetermined destinations and the craft's pilot would detonate them upon his clearing the blast area. It would be the scariest thing ever created by the hand of man. By creating only one and selling it to the US, Hammer guaranteed for himself the trust of the nation he loved, the gratitude of its government and the respect of every other nation in the world. It was a perfect plan.

All except for the terror group who had lifted the unfinished weapon from the lab two days before Hammer had called Tony.

The lab was as far off the grid as humanly imaginable. It was located in a dried-up river valley in the Yoblanoi Mountains, somewhere between the chilly verdure of the boreal forests and the icy desolation of the tundra. It was a three hour drive and then a one hour hike from the closest place flat enough to land a plane.

"I've been there," said Bruce, consulting a map on his tablet.

"Did _he_ bring you there?"

Bruce looked up over the tablet's edge at the careful look Tony was casting his way. Tony nervously swirled the ice and scotch in his glass. The poorly hidden curiosity made Bruce smirk.

"Missionary work, Tony. I went with a group of Catholic nurses and helped keep a breakout of a deadly influenza strain from spreading to Asia."

Tony nodded solemnly. "If there's any work I can't condone, it's missionary work," he said, taking a drink. "It's the most boring work there is."

Bruce let go an exasperated sigh. This was going to be a long trip.

"What happened to the people working on the project?" he asked, scrolling through the list of scientists, consultants, medical personnel, security agents and maintenance teams that lived and worked at the secret lab year-round.

Not looking up, Tony replied, "They're still there, waiting to go back to work. That's where we're headed first. Look at their security feeds, talk to everyone who was on the grounds the day the weapon was taken."

Bruce squinted at the list. "Why can't we look at the feeds now?"

Tony smirked. "Hammer's not as inept as we give him credit for. He actually has an entire off-the-grid system. All self-reliant. Water from wells, power from wind and solar, greenhouses for food. Better yet, security protocols to keep data from being sent out. It's weird. He was really determined to finish this."

"But he didn't?"

Tony shrugged. "According to Hammer, the weapon was at least a year from being finished. He was shocked to hear they'd assembled a functioning weapon."

Bruce stared thoughtfully at Tony. "Could they have rushed it through testing to beat some deadline?" he asked.

Tony downed the last of his scotch. "That's the kicker. Hammer's got at least another five years to go, even with all his friends in high places. There is no deadline."

Bruce looked pointedly at Tony as he said, "That we know of."

III

There were no cities or airstrips to land at. The Stark Industries jet landed gracefully on a plateau at the base of the mountains. Light flurries of snow swirled around her wings and caked up on her wheels as she stopped.

"Siberia in November," sighed Bruce, looking out the window at the white-green landscape. "Brilliant idea."

Tony clapped him on the back on his way out. "My ideas are always brilliant."

On the ground, it was cold. Not very far below freezing, as the sun was up, but pretty damn cold. The sky was almost as white as the ground. The landscape was scarred with black and green bolts of trees and crags. To the south, the mountain range rose up silver against the white sky. To the north, the white ground extended uninterrupted to the white sky at an imperceptible point in the distance.

"When we leave," said Bruce, pulling on a parka, "this plane can take off in this weather… right?"

Tony shot him a look that said, "gimme a break." "Banner, this is a _Stark_ Industries plane. The question is what _can't_ it do in this weather."

"Forgive me for not being as confident as you, Tony."

The pair set off with a team of three guards. The three hour drive was miserable. The hike was worse. Bruce alternated between swearing mildly under his breath and deep breathing exercises. Tony just swore. The guards were stoic and silent, save to discuss emergency procedures on occasion.

"I can't remember the last time I had a workout like this," Tony groaned, topping a rocky ridge.

Bruce leaned against a pine tree and gasped for air. "I need to sit for a few," he breathed. Tony nodded in agreeance. The two split a canteen of green tea and a bottle of water. Steam rose from their lips as they drank. The guards stood watch.

"How far are we, Tony?"

Tony consulted his phone. "Less than two miles. We can do this, bro."

"'Bro'?" repeated Bruce, blinking in disbelief. "Why isn't Agent Romanoff accompanying us? Wouldn't it have been prudent for SHIELD to send a Russian-speaking agent with us?"

"SHIELD doesn't know we left," said Tony, laughing at his own sneakiness.

"Fury's gonna be pissed when we get back," said Bruce, shooting him a look that was meant to be reproving, but ended up looking a little too encouraging.

"Come on. When is that guy _not_ pissed? You could give him kumbaya lessons."

In another twenty minutes, the group crested a huge ridge that looked out on a valley nestled between several mountainous ridges. The valley was packed with green-black trees in tight clumps and sharp, rocky protrusions. The lab compound stood in the middle of the low place. It was massive, covering several acres.

The group had a perfect view of the complex from atop the ridge. There was a large central building, low and made of cement, like a fortress. Several smaller but equally solid-looking buildings connected to it with little spoke-like tunnels. The whole thing was surrounded by a menacing cement and iron wall that was topped with razor wire and spikes. From above, the lab looked somewhat like a silver wheel in the white and black valley.

"They're expecting us, aren't they?" asked Bruce, surveying the scene with concern. "They're not gonna shoot us, are they?"

"It's not armed. The wall is to deter trespassers," said Tony, not batting an eye. "It's not for offense at all."

Tony conferred with Dr. Santhavisouk, the head of the complex, via a video com at the gate to the complex. The group was granted access and accompanied to the main lab by a contingent of one Chinese rent-a-cop.

The lab's lobby was warm though it looked icy with lofty white walls and steel accents. The team shed coats, gloves and hats on the plush sofa that sat waiting for guests that never came. A pretty receptionist of indeterminate ethnicity, clad in a steel-grey suit, arrived with a tray of a mild hot chai in a pot and several cups. She greeted them first in Russian, then in Chinese, then in English. It seemed as though she was taught to go on, but after "Welcome," stuck, she left it at that.

"Tony Stark," said Tony, shaking her hand once the tray was set down. "Dr. Bruce Banner. Our security team. Miss?"

"Anya," she said, nodding. "It's a pleasure to meet you gentlemen. Dr. Santhavisouk will be here momentarily. Please warm yourselves with some tea," she said with a peculiar accent that was lost somewhere between Russian and Korean.

Bruce stared at Tony for a moment, marveling at his efficiency and courtesy. It was weird to see Tony Stark be serious. Somehow, it was like seeing a superhero unmasked or a magic trick revealed.

The men sat down in what was clearly a waiting area in the lobby. It was obvious that guests were few and far between, but the lab must have expected Hammer or the occasional visiting scientist and was fully prepared for even the rarest visit. While the walls were a stark white, the furniture was warmer: the sofas and chairs were a warm, rustic brown and a red Oriental rug made the space almost cozy. The sitting area was small, but the lobby itself echoed around them like a cathedral.

Cozied up in a chair by himself, Bruce lingered over his tea. It was milder than chai was traditionally, but it was hearty and warm. After the trek, he savored the heat. Tony skimmed his, clearly unfamiliar with the taste of cardamom and anise in a teacup.

"They don't have coffee out here?" he groaned, setting the cup down on the cement and glass table between the sofas. He propped his feet on the arm of Bruce's chair as if he owed the place.

The guards were stoic and silent as they'd been all day, but they clearly welcomed the reassuring warmth of the tea after the hike.

Dr. Santhavisouk appeared after ten minutes of tea sipping and Tony fidgeting. He was smaller than he looked in his pictures and he looked tiny in his pictures. He was dressed in a wooly Irish-style sweater and pressed slacks, which made him look not quite as stern as he did in his ID photo.

"I'm sorry you had to make such a miserable journey, gentleman," he said in perfect English, crossing the icy space and stopping on the warm rug to shake Tony's hand and then Bruce's. "It is an honor to meet such distinguished achievers in your respective fields."

While Bruce nodded politely, Tony said, "Likewise, Doc. You're something in plutonium, I hear."

"We didn't consider the inconvenience of the trip," said Bruce, setting his empty cup back on the tray, "in light of the depth of the situation."

Dr. Santhavisouk nodded solemnly. "We greatly appreciate your inclination to help. It's a… delicate situation."

"No shit," said Tony, causing several raised eyebrows at his brash language. "We kinda planned on ditching this popsicle before nightfall, so mind if we get started?"

"While your group is of course welcome to stay in our fully equipped and luxurious guest quarters, I understand the need for haste. Please come this way, gentlemen."

"You boys wanna wait here, that's fine," Tony told the team. "I'd like one of you to come and take notes."

Of course the men knew "take notes" was code for "make sure these bastards don't gut us and make borsht out of our kidneys" but Bruce and Dr. Santhavisouk didn't. It was more polite that way. Bruce eyed Tony warily. He knew Tony recorded everything on his nearly-invisible StarkTech phone.

Dr. Santhavisouk and Anya led Bruce, Tony and Stefan, the security agent whose assignation was "taking notes" to a steel elevator roomier than most peoples' kitchens.

"Most of our facilities are deep underground, beneath the permafrost," said Anya, gesturing to a holographic map of the facility on the wall. "Only the power facilities and administrative offices are above ground."

"Fascinating," said Bruce, taking his glasses from his shirt pocket to examine the map.

"We're not tourists, Dr. Banner," said Tony gently.

"I may not have a chance to see a nuclear weapons facility like this again, Mr. Stark," he replied, equally gently. He was actually a little annoyed with Tony's sudden lack of interest or humor.

"Would you like to review the security footage first, Mr. Stark?" asked Dr. Santhavisouk. "We've been over it a dozen times, but can't retrieve the lost data at all."

"What happened to the footage exactly?" asked Tony, whipping out his phone and nodding at Stefan to "take notes." "Hammer only said the footage was lost. He didn't say how. Hack?"

"Not a hack, exactly," said the doctor, frowning thoughtfully at Anya.

"We have one of the best software security systems on the planet, sirs," said Anya. "We have no actual indication of any hacks in our system whatsoever. The data simply disappeared."

Tony and Bruce exchanged a glance as Stefan copied the information to a translucent StarkTech tablet.

"No offense, miss," said Bruce, taking his glasses off to look her in the eye, "but the two can't both be possible. There must be a hack."

"We understand that," said Dr. Santhavisouk. "It's just so odd that we can't detect it at all, save for the lost data."

The elevator opened on a moderately-lit security room. A half dozen men and women sat at three massive information centers. Each person oversaw one entire section of the compound. But that was strictly manual oversight. The digital system, nicknamed RALPH, oversaw everything. The people were just there to double check. They ran on six-hour shifts every day of the week. There was one backup team in case of emergencies. All of this Anya explained to the new arrivals as they exited the elevator.

"Impressive," murmured Bruce.

"Meh," said Tony, who could probably invent a better system in his sleep.

The room wasn't large, but it gave the impression of being a part of something huge.

"This is the bottom floor," said Anya in her odd accent. "All of the security centers are the hardest to reach from the outside."

"Naturally," said Bruce.

"_Centers_?" repeated Tony.

"There's a second security center that oversees the mainframe. It's reviewed by a much smaller team, obviously, but also has to be kept separate from this one as a sort of check," furnished the doctor.

"Everything's separate to help prevent booboos," said Tony absentmindedly as he surveyed the room.

"And of course there's the digital security center," added Anya. "The people who actually work with the digital security system."

"Is that located near the mainframe?" asked Tony.

"Yes, but not on the same level. It's separate too."

"Interesting," he muttered.

The group gathered around a different screen with no visible input system.

"RALPH, will you please bring up the security footage from lab four at 03:47 two days ago?" said Dr. Santhavisouk.

"Certainly, Doctor," said a cool synthesized voice. "Please enter security protocol default eighty-nine first."

The doctor pressed his index finger to a pad near the screen and said a short phrase in Laotian.

"Confirmed," said RALPH. "Accessing data."

A silent security feed from a camera above a door in a half-lit laboratory appeared on the screen. It was in full color and showed a view of a covered object in the center of a warehouse-like room. The object was vaguely torpedo-shaped and roughly the size of a coffin. It didn't take a genius to guess it was the Devastator.

The footage didn't show any changes save for the passing of time on the time stamp. Thirty seconds into the feed, the screen went blue. It didn't show static or snow or make any noise. It simply went blue like a power line had been pulled.

"Fast forward five minutes, RALPH," said the doctor.

The time stamp progressed through another 4 minutes and 57 seconds. At 03:53:26 the screen appeared again. Exactly as it had at the beginning, save the coffin-sized object was gone; the room was empty. Nothing else was visibly changed.

"I would show you all the footage of the corridor outside, the upper levels, the grounds and the exit, but I'm sure you can deduce that the security feed from every camera on the property went through the exact same change," said the doctor.

Tony gave him a look that bordered on both pity and mockery.

"You do know that this was an inside job," he said, barely stifling the sarcasm.

Dr. Santhavisouk sighed and the heads of the six overseers turned to Tony. Eyes of varying shape, size and color cast him a look of hatred.

"It's the only reasonable conclusion," said the doctor tentatively. "But besides these teams being the best and completely trusted, it requires a security override like mine to even access the footage. There is no record of any of our employees accessing the footage. At all. Ever."

"Except for when it occurred of course," ventured Bruce, raising an eyebrow.

Dr. Santhavisouk nodded. "And when it did, naturally the team on watch went berserk. RALPH shut everything down. The whole plant went on lockdown. We had seventy-three security agents searching the whole place. There wasn't a leaf, a snowflake, a post-it out of place _anywhere_."

"The perfect crime," murmured Bruce.

"They were gone before the lockdown even occurred," said Tony, eyeing the paused feed.

"Impossible," said the doctor, a little panicky. "As soon as the screen changed, RALPH initiated lockdown. Which meant no one but me and a select few of the elite security agents could even move between levels or hallways. They would have had to have been in and out of the complex in less than a half a second. I'm not exaggerating. It's _impossible_."

"I'm sensing a lot of impossibilities being challenged over the course of this event," said Bruce, eyeing Tony's phone.

"Can we see the computer mainframe?" said Tony.

Dr. Santhavisouk hesitated.

"Something wrong?" said Tony.

Anya shifted uncomfortably.

"Only three people are even allowed on that floor," said the doctor awkwardly. "I'm not allowed on that floor."

"Who is?" asked Bruce.

"The two people who physically maintain the floor and the head of the mainframe security team. It has more security protocols than any other part of the compound, save, of course, for the actual research departments."

Tony pocketed his phone like he was a student hiding cigarettes from the teacher in class. Hands in his pockets, he smirked slyly at Dr. Santhavisouk.

"If I could get onto the floor without security protocols, would _you_ mind me checking it out?" he asked.

The doctor looked incredulous. "You have my permission to visit the floor if you can access it," he said, catching onto Tony's meaning better than a stranger to Tony's methods should have.

"Please lead the way, doc," said Tony, gesturing back to the elevator. Turning back to the overseers, he added, "No hard feelings, gang. I know none of you did it."

The elevator dinged and they were on their way back up.

Their journey through the compound taught Tony and Bruce several things about the whole system. Basic security passes that every employee possessed were required to pass between any floors, access any staircase, hallway or elevator, or enter or exit the compound. Meaning no visitor like themselves could leave any room without an escort. Security agents and Dr. Santhavisouk, the head of the lab, had special security. They could access almost every area of the compound with ease. Certain areas were off limits to certain people. Only kitchen staff and security could access the kitchens, for example.

The mainframe had its own building. Above ground was the massive generator system that ran independently of all the other power systems, powering the computer itself. The first two underground floors were empty as a security buffer, save for the heater that made the building livable. The next three floors housed the computer system itself. The bottom two floors housed the superconductive cooling system that prevented the entire mainframe from bursting into flames. The security office that oversaw the mainframe was located on the sixth level, but separately from the cooling system; it was offset down a separate high security corridor.

Generally, the three mainframe floors were devoid of human contact. The two maintenance personnel made daily circuits in full blizzard wear, making sure everything was in working order. Once a week, the head of security there would escort them and run checks. It was like clockwork.

"Like creepy, CIA kinda clockwork," muttered Tony to himself, upon learning all of this.

"I don't want this to sound backwater," said Bruce as they strolled down the corridor leading to the mainframe building, "but isn't it all a little… big?"

"Big?" repeated Anya.

Bruce lowered his eyebrows and looked at her through his eyelashes. "Come on. It's… it's like having a poisonous insect guarded by Seal Team 6."

"Catty, Banner," said Tony. "I like it."

"Do you understand how dangerous this weapon is?" said Dr. Santhavisouk.

Bruce laughed his morbid laugh and hesitated, letting the irony sink into those present. Few understood morbid irony like Bruce Banner.

"Lot of good it did, huh?"

Tony smirked at Bruce.

"This isn't funny," gasped Anya.

"No, it kinda is," said Tony, relishing the joke. "It's frickin' hilarious in a cosmic sense."

"How?!"

"I'm estimating a cost of a million dollars a week keeping this weapon safe," Tony purred, ticking imaginary costs off on his fingers. "And it's gone anyway. The greatest security system on the planet. Greater than anything guarding any Swiss Bank, the President of the United States or Hitler's preserved head combined. More superfluous than another Dreamworks movie. And you still lost the goddamn weapon. You don't see how it's funny?"

Dr. Santhavisouk and Anya looked horrified.

"But that's not even the point," said Tony, sighing. "You two think the system is here to prevent this weapon being unleashed on the world."

Even Bruce looked confused this time.

"Any of you ever met Justin Hammer?" Tony continued. "He didn't set this up to protect mankind. He did it so no one could ever have his weapon."

Anya exchanged a look with the doctor.

"And you lost it."

"It was _stolen_," said Dr. Santhavisouk.

"So you say," said Tony, turning his back on them as they reached a security door. "Can you get in here?"

"This is as far as I can go," said Dr. Santhavisouk. "I tested it once in an emergency."

"What other kinds of emergencies could ever happen here?" asked Bruce, leaning against the strutted wall.

"The cooling system malfunctioned and a section of the computer threatened to overheat. The team took care of it, but I wanted to see if I could bring in help."

"Then step back and watch the master at work," said Tony. "Thank you," he said, taking the tablet from Stefan.

The heavy iron door was sealed with a bar locking system. Beside the door was a simple keycard reader like most of the other doors had. Tony looked at it through the translucent screen of Stefan's tablet.

"JARVIS, what kinda card reader is this?" he asked the tablet.

Bruce was surprised to hear the familiar voice from Tony's home come through the small speaker on the edge of the tablet.

"A Collins Virulent 3430, sir," said JARVIS. "Similar to the Virulent 3400 used on the security doors in SHIELD's helicarrier."

"What I was thinking exactly," said Tony, trailing his fingers across the screen, moving almost invisible symbols from place to place.

"You can't crack – " Dr. Santhavisouk started to say, but Bruce cut him off with a "nix nix" wave.

"Can I borrow your keycard, doc?" Tony asked, waving his free hand over his shoulder at Dr. Santhavisouk.

Reluctantly, he handed the ID to Tony, who slid it through the track in the reader while still looking through the screen. The reader beeped and a light showed green.

"You gotta be shitting me," said the doctor softly.

Tony laughed almost maniacally as he dangled the card from its lanyard

"Care to join me in the mainframe building, doc?" he said, stepping through the door first.

Bruce trailed the group with Stefan, who was once again taking notes on the tablet, and smiled to himself.

IV

"I wish Justin'd consulted me on this whole thing," said Tony, leading the group.

"You'd have done everything better," said Bruce, knowing he was only stroking Tony's ego, but also knowing it was true.

"Hell no, I'd have told him not to pull this shit."

Bruce wasn't sure what to say to that.

The room they'd entered was an empty, echoing warehouse the size and shape of a castle dungeon: vaguely round and _huge_. An elevator was to their right and Tony swiped Dr. Santhavisouk's card to open it.

"You didn't hack that card reader," said Anya. "How did you open the elevator?"

Tony stepped inside and shrugged. "I had a suspicion that the system would be lazy."

"Lazy?"

"Dr. Santhavisouk obviously couldn't access this building. Why bother limiting his access to the elevator? He'd never get that far."

"Each reader is individually programmed," said Bruce, catching on. "The initial programmer got lazy."

Tony said nothing for a moment, but flashed Bruce a confirming smirk and eyebrow wiggle. "Once you're in, you're in."

The elevator let them off at the sixth floor, into a tiny round room. To the right was a massive door that led to the first level of the cooling system; the smaller but still formidable door to the left led to the cloistered security center.

"I bet _this_ scanner works," said Bruce as Tony stepped up to the smaller door.

Tony swiped the ID and a light flashed red. The reader beeped warningly.

"Shit," said Tony as Stefan handed him back the tablet. He repeated his process and the door unlatched, allowing the group to pass.

"Kakogo cherta zdesʹ proiskhodit?" a woman yelled, rushing to the door, her white face flushed pink.

Bruce had a vague idea of what she said, but Tony clearly was baffled. He muttered something like "Das video" to himself as Anya rushed to answer the panicking woman in Russian.

In heavily accented English, the woman said, flipping a curtain of dirty blonde curls over her shoulder, "Doctor, how can they do this?"

"It's a long story, Miss Gorshkova," said Dr. Santhavisouk. "These gentlemen are here to help find the Devastator – "

"I know why _they're_ here!" she gasped. "How are the five of you in _here_?"

"I'm too sexy for security." Tony grinned roguishly.

The woman said something loud in Russian. This time Tony knew what it was.

"She said 'fuck' in Russian," he said gleefully to Anya.

"Something like it, yes," Anya replied, clearly exasperated.

"I don't think any of this is helping," said Bruce, holding his hands up.

"I think you all need to leave," said Miss Gorshkova.

"I think you all need to let me and Dr. Banner do our jobs," said Tony, seriousness returning. "We have a nuclear weapon to find."

"It's not in here," she said, shoving him towards the door.

Tony chuckled. "As much as I love being manhandled by angry Soviet spies, I actually do have work to do. Get your hands off me, please, Miss Gorbechev."

"How dare you!" she cried.

A loud _crack_ resounded and the men fell silent. Tony'd just been bitch-slapped.

"You deserved that," said Bruce, smiling in spite of himself.

"I liked it," he said, smirking.

Miss Gorshkova swore loudly and determinedly in Russian. It was more than Anya could take and she stepped out into the hall, her olive cheeks flushing mauve.

"Everyone calm down!" shouted Dr. Santhavisouk. "This is madness."

"No, this is Sparta!" shouted Tony gleefully.

"No, this is _dangerous_!" said Stefan, opening his mouth for the first time in light of the fact that Bruce's face was flushed.

"I'm fine," said Bruce softly as all eyes fell on him. He really hated when all eyes fell on him. "Just getting uncomfortable in here. I'll step into the hallway, shall I?"

He disappeared and Anya returned, no doubt urged by Bruce for her own safety, just in case.

"Now look what you did. You hurt his feelings," said Tony, gesturing to the space Bruce no longer occupied.

"I have legal contractual right to kill anyone on this floor who doesn't have XLT pass!" cried Miss Gorshkova.

Tony looked at Dr. Santhavisouk.

"She does," he said softly. "Please don't kill Mr. Stark," he added, turning to her.

"I could kill _you_ instead."

"I'd rather you didn't."

It took several minutes for everyone to calm down and for Anya to explain everything to Miss Gorshkova in Russian. She grudgingly let Tony and Bruce stay. Apparently she was the head of security in the mainframe building. While it wasn't a _legal_ right, she did indeed have the right in her contract, in fact, the _duty_, to kill unauthorized visitors to the building. On sight. The only reason she didn't think to at first was because she saw Dr. Santhavisouk. As he was the head of the entire compound, she assumed his presence was necessary, even if improper.

She allowed Tony and Bruce to review the security footage in the mainframe building on the night the weapon was taken. To the surprise of everyone in the group, the frame of all eighteen cameras did not turn blue at exactly 03:47. Instead, at 03:29, the frame of only one camera skipped. Slightly. It was barely noticeable. If it had been a real video tape, the viewer would have to assume it was an imperfection in the film. But it was digital. High definition digital. A skip meant either the feed had been edited or there was some other manual stop placed in the file. The camera view was of an access station to the mainframe right outside the first entrance to it on the fourth floor. Nothing special.

"Hax0red," said Tony.

"Excuse me?" said Miss Gorshkova.

"This is exactly what I was thinking."

"You need to be more clear, Mr. Stark," said Dr. Santhavisouk.

Bruce watched Tony. He thought he understood, but corporate espionage wasn't even remotely his specialty. He just followed Tony better than most. Tony smirked, folded his arms and replayed the footage when the skip occurred.

"Okay, I'll say this as slowly as I know how."

"Please," said Miss Gorshkova.

Tony sighed. "This was more than an inside job. This was bone cancer. The system fucked itself."

"We appreciate you enunciating, Tony, but you're still a little ambiguous," said Bruce, putting his hand on Tony's elbow.

Tony frowned at the screen.

"There!" he yelled.

"What?" said his companions in unison.

"There!"

"Where?"

Another skip. On the same camera. At 04:02. Barely perceptible. A minor quiver in the frame. Rows upon rows of processors were visible in the background. A small access panel was clear to the right of the camera, which seemed to be just to the right of the main entrance. The room was still. No sign of life. Just that glitch in the film.

Bruce got it before the others.

"A fill," he said softly.

"A what?" said Dr. Santhavisouk.

Miss Gorshkova frowned and folded her arms in a way that was strikingly similar to that of Tony.

"A loop," she sighed.

"You wouldn't have known if you weren't looking for it," said Bruce.

"I was looking for it," said Tony, smirking in a very self-satisfied way.

"What does this mean?" asked the doctor, watching the glitch play over and again at Tony's command.

"_Someone_ slipped into the mainframe room and accessed the security feeds," said Tony. "They made the bluescreen occur on all the primary security cameras to make it look like your system had been hacked from an outside source, when in reality, it was happening right from this access panel." He pointed to the feed.

"This footage _here_ from 03:29 to 04:02 is looped to hide the perpetrator's presence," said Bruce. "They looped a piece of regular footage so no one would notice what they'd done in the chaos caused by the theft."

"When you explain it that way it all sounds so simple," said the doctor.

"It kinda is," said Tony. "When you're used to shit like this."

"I don't want to get used to shit like this," sighed Bruce, half to himself, earning a laugh from Tony.

"So we know only a handful of people could have done it," said Tony, looking pointedly at Miss Gorshkova.

"Three exactly," she said. "Me, Reynolds, and Huang."

"Very interracial this place," said Tony. "Exactly. One of you did it."

"I didn't," she said. After a long pause, she unfolded her arms and added, "But I am a suspect, so I'll remove myself from the investigation for formality's sake.

"Very grown up of you," said Tony, ruffling her hair.

"Touch me again and you die," she said, catching his wrist.

"Fair enough."

"Where are Reynolds and Huang now?" asked Bruce.

"Their patrol is done every morning, so probably in their barracks," said Anya.

"Next stop," said Tony.

"You're going to go question them?" asked Dr. Santhavisouk. "Now?"

Tony sighed. "In the course of their hacking, we know they deleted all evidence of their keycards being swiped. There's no physical evidence you're aware of is there?"

"No, but…"

"Then a simple old-fashioned interrogation's all we have."

"Why are you assuming I'm not involved?" asked Miss Gorshkova.

"One," said Tony, holding up a finger. "I'm not. I never assume. Two, I don't _think_ you are because you were genuinely ready to kill us all for coming in. You're really into your job. Three, I'm waiting to interrogate you when I have reinforcements. I have my own retired KGB agent and she'll foxy-boxing your ass to next Vosmoe marta."

"I'm not sure to be enraged or thrilled by your response," she deadpanned.

Tony shrugged then turned to Bruce. "You're comin' with me. I need a good cop and you're the squarest guy I know."

"I'm really disappointed by how flattered I am by that."

V

"Where are the drugs?!"

Tony's fist slammed into the chrome table.

"_What the hell is he talking about_?" said Huang in Chinese to Dr. Santhavisouk.

"_He thinks he's interrogating you_," said the doctor in flawed Mandarin.

"Stop conspiring with the enemy, doc!" shouted Tony.

"Tony, you're embarrassing yourself," said Bruce, grabbing Tony's admonishing hand.

"You play your part so well," said Tony, shaking his head in mock appreciation of Bruce's "performance."

"This is absurd," said Huang. "I have no drugs. Contraband is illegal here," he added, raising supplicant hands.

"He doesn't think you have drugs," sighed Bruce. "We know you accessed the main frame and removed the footage of the theft of the Devastator.

"No!" cried Huang. "I would never! Wait… _why_ would I even do that?"

"Money!" shouted Tony, leaning down so his nose was a hair's breadth from that of the trembling man. "You're working for the Illuminati, the wealthiest secret organization in the world!"

"The Illu… _Are you insane_?" cried Huang, reverting to his native tongue for comfort. "_Are you on drugs? Is this some cruel test? I've had it with HammerTech Industries! I quit!_"

"Calm down, Huang," said Dr. Santhavisouk.

"Tony, I swear to God, I'll punch you myself," warned Bruce, his temper flaring.

"Keep it in your pants, Greenie," said Tony. "No one wants to see that."

"Miss Gorshkova, remove Mr. Stark!" cried the doctor.

She dragged the billionaire from the room, literally kicking and screaming.

"I haven't been this embarrassed in a long time," sighed Bruce. "And I'm an expert at embarrassing myself."

It took more than an hour to clear up the confusion Tony's enthusiasm caused. Gorshkova, Bruce and Dr. Santhavisouk interviewed the two men in the solitary interrogation room in the main security center. Neither Reynolds nor Huang would admit to being involved in the crime, but Tony watched both interviews through a two-way mirror and thought he'd pegged them.

"Reynolds is lying," said Bruce, joining Tony when it was over.

Tony smiled at Bruce in a way that made him just a little uncomfortable.

"What?"

"I was about to come in there and tell the doc the same thing," purred Tony.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"How'd you know?"

"Good old fashioned detective work."

"You study his body language?" asked Bruce, looking through the window at Reynolds, who was still in the interrogation room, waiting to be taken to a holding cell like the one Huang was in at the moment.

"Yeah, his heart rate and eyelash flutters and how one of his buttons was undone."

"You're bullshitting me aren't you?"

"Oh, hell yes. JARVIS found a Caiman account with his name on it while you were in there," said Tony, laughing at his own wit.

"That makes a lot more sense," Bruce admitting, allowing himself a smile. "No one else here has one, I assume?"

"Oh, no, they all do. It's how Hammer pays them off the record."

"Then how – "

"This one was well protected, new and freshly filled with five mil."

"The others have regular deposits and are about five years old?" said Bruce, following quite well.

Tony shot him with an imaginary gun and passed him his phone where the info was still visible.

"Hey, how'd _you_ figure it out?"

Bruce was about to leave to show Dr. Santhavisouk. He stopped and smirked over his shoulder at Tony.

"Who here is an expert on breathing and stress?"


	3. Don't Take Your Guns to Town

_(Author's note: I would really like some constructive criticism on this section. I have three questions: 1; Am I making Tony too introspective? Should I tone that down? 2; Am I clear here in the feelings, the landscape and the drama? Do you understand what's going on? 3; The thing Tony makes Bruce do later in the chapter, is it too... stupid? Should I have not crossed that line? Please comment. Thanks! Love you guys! And thanks for your patience waiting on this chapter!)_

___**(a/n: Edit 8-22-2012: I would like to thank everyone for the faves, reviews and helpful criticism. This update includes the smoothing out of minor issues, grammatical errors and continuity inconsistencies. Thanks again for your support.)**_

I

Tony looked over at Bruce. The physicist was folded into the lotus position on the comfy sofa at the back of the cabin. Judging by the rhythm of his breathing, he was in a state of deep meditation.

Their trip to the lab in the mountains had been more than a little stressful on Bruce and Tony's ego really didn't want him to admit it, but he knew deep down inside that most of that stress had been caused by his own theatrics. That was why he was sitting hunched over the lunch table with tiny microchips and tools scattered among the snack scraps, listening to an 80s metal playlist through $500 earbuds. He was making Bruce a present.

The plane was somewhere over Mongolia. They were on their way to Beijing to refuel and pick up some supplies. After they proved that the American-born systems analyst, David Reynolds, had been bribed by an outside agent, the next step was to find out who had done it. Reynolds didn't know. He could only tell them what he'd done himself at the request of an anonymous email promising him $5million. Tony got bored listening to the man's story because he already knew everything Reynolds had done down to the detail simply from his experience. When you run a multibillion dollar corporation, you get used to bribery, hacking and espionage. To Tony, the whole affair at the lab had been just another day at the office.

Their investigative efforts were temporarily at a standstill. There was no evidence available to shed any light on the person or group that contacted Reynolds, paid him or physically took the experimental weapon. It was time to take a breather and consider their options. A short stay at a private airport in Beijing was a good idea and Tony could send someone out for more long underwear. It was about to get way colder, so said the forecast, than he was prepared for.

As the plane crossed over into Chinese airspace, Bruce stirred from his meditation. He stood and stretched and joined Tony at the lunch table, picking up the half-eaten package of buttercream snack cakes he'd abandoned earlier.

"What are you making, Tony?' he asked.

Tony wasn't sure what to say. He felt a little sheepish – not that he'd ever admit that Tony Stark knew what "sheepish" meant – after his performance at the lab. He was also a little uneasy about making something for Bruce, however practical, because Bruce struck him as the kind of person who didn't accept gifts.

"Something useful," he said evasively, taking out one earbud.

"Thanks for keeping the music down while I meditated," said Bruce. "Today was kind of rough. I needed to de-stress."

Without looking up, Tony mumbled, "Yeah. Sorry about that."

Bruce was silent. Tony could feel the tension as he assembled a tiny motherboard. Tony Stark apologizing? Weird, he knew.

"I'm about to make up for it, though," said Tony, screwing a steel plate in place.

"That scares me."

"It shouldn't. This time. I don't always make up for shit by making it worse."

"That's not what Pepper told me."

They both laughed. Pepper was sort of the fulcrum between them that kept all of their peculiarities balanced. She was like a mother.

"Here."

Tony watched as Bruce examined the gift he handed him. Some of the soldering was still hot and Bruce held it gingerly.

"What is it? It looks like an expensive Italian watch," he asked.

"That's what it started out as," said Tony, pointing to the empty space on his left wrist.

"Good grief!"

It did look like a $10,000 Bulgari chrono: black steel watch face, three smaller dials, studded case, black leather band. It ticked. It told the time. It _was_ a watch. Tony actually really liked it, but he thought it would better serve Bruce. As a Hulk meter.

"A what?"

"Hulk meter."

"I used to wear heart rate monitors. Is that it?" Bruce asked, buckling the watch to his wrist.

"It's a heart rate monitor," said Tony, smirking. "And a blood pressure monitor. And a thermometer. See the three smaller dials? No longer hour, minute, second. Something a little more important."

"A deeper insight into my mood?"

"A little, yeah."

Bruce smiled. Tony could tell he was struggling with the urge to reject the gift, probably because it started out as a valuable piece of jewelry. But he could also tell that Bruce really appreciated it.

"It's beautiful," he muttered softly, examining the clasp. "It falls away, doesn't it?"

"It takes a lot of pressure," said Tony, tugging it across the table. "But the clasp releases and the watch falls off, yeah. If you're still nearby when you come back to yourself, you can just pick it up."

"Thank you, Tony. I'll do my best to take care of it."

"I just figured it would come in handy over the next few days."

"I don't even wanna think about how right you are.

II

Tony procured an interesting object in Beijing.

"Is that a Geiger counter?"

Bruce stared incredulously at the small device in Tony's hand. Tony smirked at him and raised the small wand to Bruce's chest. The device let out a concerned crackle.

"Bruce! You're radioactive! You should have that checked out!"

"You're an asshole," said Bruce, frowning at Tony.

Tony had the distinctive feeling, though, that Bruce was struggling not to laugh. It was proof of their friendship that he could poke fun at such a sensitive topic. Although, Tony recalled, I've been poking fun at Bruce since I met him. He shrugged inwardly.

"What's this for?"

"I'm inventing a plan."

"I don't trust your plans, Tony."

"Why not?"

"They usually involve flying H-bombs into deep space, starting wrestling matches with Russian security agents, poking me with sharp objects and blowing shit up."

"I love blowing shit up."

"Are you two quite finished?"

The two bickering men turned to the screen in the cabin. Pepper Potts' pale, freckled face was there, glaring at them, her long strawberry locks twisted back into a plait.

"Hello gorgeous," said Tony.

"Hi, Miss Potts," said Bruce.

"Don't you hello gorgeous Potts whatever me."

"Yes'm," said Bruce.

Tony laughed. "What's the matter, darling?"

"You two haven't said a word to me since you left. I didn't know if you were alive or dead or Hulked or frozen or bleeding or dead all day while you were alone at that lab!" said Pepper sternly. "I hate worrying about _you_, Tony, but I expect it. You should do better than him though, Bruce."

"I'm sorry, Miss Potts. I thought he was on top of it. Next time, I'll check in with you," said Bruce, holding up his own StarchTech phone. "I'll text you every few hours so you know we're okay."

"Thanks, Bruce," she sighed. "How _did_ everything go, anyway?"

The pair filled Pepper in on what occurred at the lab. When Tony said they'd hit a temporary dead end, Pepper looked worried.

"Where are you now?"

"Beijing," said Bruce.

"We stopped to refuel and pick up some toys," said Tony, holding up his Geiger counter.

"What on earth is that for?" she gasped.

"He was just about to tell me," said Bruce, turning to look at Tony, who grinned back at him.

Tony knew that the two people he was addressing cared more about him than just about anyone else in the world. It was probably a bad idea telling them what the counter was for. But he didn't have bad ideas, right? They're all brilliant, right?

"Putting it in my suit," he said flatly, avoiding their respective gazes.

"Putting…" repeated Bruce.

"…Your _suit_?!" cried Pepper.

It was obvious that Pepper and Bruce both knew Tony so well that his entire plan was instantly clear to them. The two streams of curses and protests got mixed up a bit as they flew at him simultaneously, but Tony was certain he caught complaints about being in a relationship with a suicidal maniac and statements about knowing way more about radiation than Tony ever could. He wasn't sure which came from whom, but he had an idea.

"It's not dangerous," he said, fiddling with the cord that ran between the device and the sensing wand.

"The hell it's not," said Bruce, flushing.

"I can't leave you alone for a day!" hollered Pepper.

"You're both getting on my nerves," said Tony. "I'll call you later, Pep," he added, turning the screen off with a flick of his wrist.

"You can't turn me off," said Bruce, rising.

"I would if I could," deadpanned Tony. "I could drug you."

"Wouldn't work."

"Worth a shot."

"I'd kill you before you got close enough."

_Beep_.

"Sounds like a challenge."

"Not for me."

"How about a tazer?"

"You wouldn't survive powering it on."

_Beep beep_.

"Why are you so bossy?"

"Because I've seen what happens to people who mess with radiation."

_Beep-beep_. _Beep-beep_.

"You _are_ what happens when people mess with radiation. And your fancy watch is reminded us of it right now."

"I think that's the point I'm making, Tony. And I know. I can hear it too."

Silence descended on the pair and the beeping subsided. Bruce glared at Tony and Tony relished the feeling he got from knowing how much Bruce cared about him.

"_You're_ radioactive," said Tony. "I've spent two weeks with you."

Bruce deadpanned. "I'd have to bleed all over you to poison you and you know it."

"Aren't you even going to hear my plan out?" pleaded Tony, twanging the coiled cord between his fingers.

"I don't have to. I know you. You're planning on flying out into the frozen tundra, _alone _no less, looking for one of the most dangerous weapons ever created! Anything could happen. I don't know a lot about the suits, Tony, but I'll bet my life's work that none of them have been tested in sub-zero conditions. Or radioactive."

This made Tony smile. Even with all his public relations skills he didn't think he could hide his satisfaction at hearing that. At being figured out.

"I'm going to tell you the plan anyway."

"Well, I am trapped in your flying compression tube in a foreign city," conceded Bruce, folding his arms and falling back in the chair.

"Foreign cities are your playground."

"I don't speak Chinese."

"I knew you were human after all."

Bruce couldn't suppress a grin.

"Look," said Tony, leaning across the lunch table. "It's the only way to figure out where the weapon went."

"It's just so dangerous. What if you get lost?"

"You'll find me."

"I'll _what_ now?"

Tony smiled. He'd had the plan figured out for a while now. He just needed to fill in some details.

"Okay, hear me out," said Tony, rising to gesture at Bruce.

"I'm listening."

"I've got two suits on board."

"Makes sense. You go through them like most people do socks."

Tony chuckled. "Well, yeah. But I also plan for every eventuality."

"No," said Bruce sarcastically.

"I've had every kind of sensor imaginable built into the suits over the years. Currently, I don't have a radiation sensor of any sort. I bought this to modify it and make it extra sensitive and I'll install it in one suit. I'm going to track the weapon from the last place we know it was, the lab, and see how far I can go."

Bruce nodded. "I guessed as much."

"Yup. Cookies for that. Anywho, I'll check in regularly with you and the crew. You can meet me at just about any landing surface for thousands of miles to pick me up if the suit needs work or to follow the weapon's trail. Get me?"

"So far."

"Here's the cool part."

"I'm scared of the cool part, Tony," said Bruce, eying him warily.

"You're gonna hate me for it, too," said Tony, barely containing giggles. "In case of an emergency… Meaning an emergency where I'm stranded somewhere the plane can't land…"

"Tony…?"

"You come get me."

"In…?"

"The other suit."

"You're right. I hate you. Try again, Stark. This is the worst idea you've _ever_ had."

Tony thought back to an explosive sandwich in the third grade, a flying car in high school, an invisible plane before he took over Stark Industries, and a few other interesting ideas that failed while he was CEO.

"I strongly disagree," he said, laughing.

"I'm not ever putting on one of your suits for _anything_," said Bruce, making a decisive motion with his arms.

"To save my life?"

They eyed one another. Bruce sighed.

"If there was _nothing else_ that could be done at all, I would," he said, dropping his gaze.

Tony grinned.

III

The suit took the modification perfectly. Tony wasn't surprised. He built a robotic weaponized suit out of junk in a cave. He could make a hyper-sensitive radiation sensor and put it in a functioning Iron Man suit in the back of the cabin of a luxurious corporate jet.

Bruce watched him make the modification with patience, occasionally lending a hand where he could. Tony was a genius in a lot of areas, engineering being on of them specifically. It was not, however, something Bruce could command. He was more like an assistant at best when he helped Tony actually build something. But that wasn't to be taken lightly. Tony was often grateful to have a second set of hands he trusted.

With the plane freshly fueled, the kitchen stocked with food and everyone's suitcase packed with extra warm things, they headed back to the flat place in the Yoblanoi Mountains to land. The plan was that Bruce and the team would wait there while Tony flew in the modified Mark IX back to the lab to consult with Dr. Santhavisouk and get a reading on the Devastator's radiation signal.

Tony flew out just after 08:00 local time. He knew that Bruce would pass the time by meditating, reading some of Tony's research notes that were on file, and snacking. Over the last week, Tony (with JARVIS's help of course) had noticed that the one luxury Bruce most appreciated while living with Tony and Pepper was that he never had to look for a meal. At home in the tower, he could wake up in the middle of the night, ask JARVIS for a fruit salad, and find it delivered to his door by the nighttime chef in less than five minutes. While the tower's chef didn't know how to make chicken curry the way Bruce liked it, Tony kept finding recipes for him to try. But Bruce was always so grateful to eat his fill of it after a long day's work, it almost didn't matter.

The food on the plane was limited of course to prepared food. Tony's sexy flight attendants had been let go after Tony became involved with Pepper and the not-so-sexy ones were never required to accompany Tony on dangerous missions anyway. But Bruce seemed content with snack cakes and frozen pizza and Tony made sure his favorites had been stocked.

Tony tried not to feel bad about leaving Bruce alone on the plane. He knew it was warm and safe there and he wouldn't be bored with all the reading available. Tony didn't understand why he felt so guilty, seeing as Bruce spent almost all of his time alone, but it actually stemmed from knowing he was Bruce's only real friend. But Tony pretended he didn't know that.

All of these mushy thoughts Tony didn't particularly care about thinking were thought midflight while the magnificent Mark IX did all the work. The horizon lock was a trembling yellow line on his HUD and the landscape was little symbols and words he ignored. He knew this clump was a tree and that clump and the next. It was the second most boring landscape he'd ever flown over and he was glad he had those unpleasant mushy thoughts to distract him from the boring view.

The flight was short and he landed on the roof of the lab's main building, causing quite the stir inside. No one inside was expecting Iron Man, especially not to come swooping down onto their roof. Tony reveled in their surprise and the wonder a few of them showed. He was still a rock star in his head, even when he was assuming the shape of a walking Geiger counter.

Welcome back, Mr. Stark," said Dr. Santhavisouk, shaking Tony's robotic hand.

"Wish I could say I'm glad to be back. Since you know why I'm here, mind showing me into the lab where the weapon was stored?"

"Right away," said the doctor.

It was a little odd to be in the lab that he'd only seen on the surveillance footage. It was a huge room. The air crackled with energy. Tony wondered if he was actually _feeling_ radiation, which lead him to wondering if this was how Bruce felt every day. Did his insides crackle with energy?

A new menu appeared on his display. It showed the Alpha and Beta particle count in the form of ionizations per minute and the radiation dose rate of Gamma rays. Tony wished he had Bruce beside him to tell him what those meant again because he'd forgotten since installing the counter.

"JARVIS, ring Dr. Banner for me," he said, turning his head and watching the particle levels change.

"Tony?"

"Hey, I'm about to share my screen with you. Tell me what this means."

After a pause, Bruce answered, "This is a really high level of radiation, even for a nuclear weapon, Tony. I told you this would be really dangerous. Damn."

"Hammer suggested as much, Bruce. I expected it. What else?"

"Well, Gamma's relatively low, Alpha's a little higher than Beta. That means you're looking more or less at the weapon's signature."

"Like, if I looked at a different nuclear weapon, I'd know it wasn't the one I was looking for?"

"Pretty much."

"Good to know. This is Russia. There's probably an abandoned warhead under every tree."

Bruce laughed on the other end. "You be careful out there Tony. Don't hesitate to call me. I really, really, _really_ don't want to have to come get you."

"I know. I'll be good. See ya."

Tony ended the call and left the lab, thanking Dr. Santhavisouk and the other lab employees.

Outside, it was freezing. It was only just after nine in the morning and it was about 15 degrees Fahrenheit and on its way down. Tony was glad he'd invested in that arctic diving suit. It fit flawlessly under the Iron Man suit, hugging his body comfortably, and adding a deliciously warm layer beneath the cool metallic power of the armor.

Inside the compound's fence, the snow was kept clear, so Tony could walk unimpeded in the suit. He tested the radiation sensor as thoroughly as he could. His theory was correct. The counter picked up very low levels of radiation everywhere, but the Devastator's signature made a very distinct trail across the grounds and to the main entrance.

Tony followed the trail outside, part of him a little wary of leaving the safety of the compound. He was entirely out of his element. If something happened and he was grounded, he'd probably freeze to death before he could even ask for help. But then he envisioned an area the size of Texas being blown out of Europe or the Eastern Seaboard and he felt his resolve return.

With JARVIS's aid, the trail of radiation became a visible line of red dots on the screen, like a trail of breadcrumbs leading into the frozen shadow of the boreal forest. Tony blasted to about a hundred feet in the air and looked out. The signature was only detectable from a quarter mile, so the trail faded very shortly on the horizon.

"What's out there, JARVIS?" Tony asked.

"For five hundred miles, sir, nothing," the program responded. "It would be reasonable to assume the weapon was loaded onto a snowmobile or other similar type of vehicle then airlifted out further away."

"Let's find the airlift point then," said Tony, more to himself than JARVIS.

He rocketed off into the sky, staying close to the ground because of the low clouds and the fact that the radiation was very hard to pick up from higher up.

The trail wound through the trees and around rocks, proving JARVIS's theory that snowmobiles were used. Tony followed it through a low pass through the rocky ridges that surrounded the valley. Snow was falling, hindering his vision, but the HUD compensated with holograms of the landscape.

About 25 miles from the lab, there was a large expanse of flat rock at the base of one of the ridges. It would have made a perfect landing pad for a helicopter or small plane. The snow had long covered any evidence of human activity here, but Tony was certain of the theory. The radiation signature faded to almost nothing at this point, leaving Tony standing in the suit, looking out at the woods that crept up to the edges of the flat.

An arctic fox darted out of a hole and looked at Tony across the space. It twitched an ear before running off into the frozen forest.

"Lonely place," he said to no one.

His trusty computer answered, "Indeed it is, sir. Might I suggest returning to the plane?"

"I can't give up yet, JARVIS," said Tony softly. "Help me try to pick up the trail."

"In the air, sir?"

"Is it impossible?"

"Not for you," the AI said with a twinge of sarcasm.

"Get me Bruce again."

"How's the search, Tony?"

"You always pick up so fast, Brucey. Waiting for my call?"

Tony hoped Bruce couldn't hear the loneliness in his voice.

"You know I am. What else have I got to do?"

"I packed extra snowballs just for you, you know that."

Bruce laughed. "I ate them all."

"Gross. I need your help, Bruce."

"I figured you weren't calling because you loved the sound of my voice."

"Well, I have recordings for that."

"You scare me."

"Bruce, I lost the trail."

Tony explained what happened and Bruce was silent on the other end.

"Don't leave me hanging, Banner. It's too quiet over here."

"The particles will linger in the air," said Bruce finally. It sounded like he wasn't sure he should be encouraging Tony to do what he would next.

"Can I follow them?"

"It'll be difficult. You'll have to pick the signature out of the low levels of radiation that probably permeate every square inch of Russian tundra."

"You said 'permeate.' That's hot."

"You're not listening."

"I am. Thank you. Will you stay on the line while I figure this out?"

"Of course, Tony. Send me your screen and I'll help!"

Why did Tony feel so grateful at this moment? He knew it wasn't the time to think about it. He located the exact spot the Devastator was loaded into the larger craft. He rotated slowly on the spot, letting the sensors pick up every radioactive signal they could.

"There," said Bruce.

"Where?"

"Go back right five degrees and look up twenty degrees."

Tony complied and saw a ratio of Alpha, Beta and Gamma on his screen that matched the signature, only reduced about 99%.

"You're right," he breathed, pausing to let the screen fill out the breadcrumbs again.

"That's amazing," said Bruce. "It's like breadcrumbs."

Tony smirked. "Something like that."

Tony lifted off the ground gently. The screen adjusted to his altitude. The trail went off at an angle, indicating that the craft had been a small plane, probably just like his.

"You'll have to fly slowly so the sensors can adjust," said Bruce. It sounded like he was right next to the speaker. He was probably watching the display in awe.

"How slow?" asked Tony, hovering.

"I don't know. Ten miles per hour maybe?"

"God, I'll die."

"Mach three doesn't hurt you, but a bird's flight will?" asked Bruce, his smirk audible through the phone.

"You ever seen me drive, Banner?"

The breadcrumbs were so faint. Tony felt himself clinging to the tiny threads of hope connecting all the aspects of his plan. If he lost this, the weapon was lost. Until, of course, it resurfaced. He wasn't responsible for it, of course. But then, in a way, he was. He'd felt this way every since he became Iron Man. He had the power to stop bad guys and free prisoners and save lives. It was his _duty_ to do so. When it was within his power to do good, he had to do it. Otherwise, he was a villain by default. Negligent homicide. He wouldn't see this weapon used. He'd die before he let that happen.

Ten miles later, the computer was having a better time piecing together the trail. The higher up the plane went, the less environmental radiation there was. While the trail didn't get stronger, per se, it became more visible to Tony. By the time he got to altitude, he could fly sonic and still follow the trail. He left Bruce with the promise he'd check in soon.

By noon, the temperature had dropped below zero and Tony was over a frozen lake somewhere north of the Yablonoi range. He called Bruce and told him to have the plane begin heading north. He'd send them coordinates the second he spotted a landing place. Bruce sounded grateful that he didn't have to go get Tony.

The trail finally led down near a low area that was like a frozen plain. From high up, Tony could see a road in the distance. Perhaps a truck had been waiting for the plane when it landed. The trail met the ground at a surprisingly smooth expanse of brushy flat. Some of the shriveled plants could be seen where the snow and frost had been knocked off them by the plane. Tony sent the location to Bruce's phone and the plane's cockpit to make certain they reached him.

To Tony's surprise, the trail didn't head off to the highway in the distance. It doubled back towards the frozen lake. The signature was much stronger on the ground; clearly the weapon had been removed from the plane.

Tony flew low over the ground, following the now vivid breadcrumbs on his HUD. The trail led into a low, frosted-over forest.

"Not back into Gingerbread Land," he groaned.

It was hard navigating tight forests. Tony could do cities, his basement, parking garages and the like. But the close-grown forest was like a crowd of people. It was tight and complex. He slowed down to a crawl to keep the trail in his sight and avoid doing a George of the Jungle into a century old fir.

"JARVIS, what's out here?" he asked.

"There are no man-made structures on the map, sir, but a satellite view shows a small structure a few miles ahead. It would appear as though you're heading that way."

"What is it?"

"It's difficult to tell from the air, sir, but I would hazard a guess at some sort of emergency shelter."

"Nuclear," Tony muttered to himself.

At that exact moment, a massive elk stepped out from behind a tree. Tony moved to avoid it and miscalculated. His left foot clipped a tree, sending him spiraling through the air. He tried to compensate and just wound up blasting himself backward into the ground.

"Shit!" he shouted into nothingness.

With a hiss, his helmet opened, exposing his face to the freezing air. The snow broke his fall somewhat, essentially making an Iron Man-shaped snow angel, out of which Tony peeked now, assessing the damage.

"Why the fuck is it so cold?" he asked.

"The temperature has been steadily dropping all morning, sir," said JARVIS. "You must not have noticed it on your HUD. It's currently five degrees below zero Fahrenheit."

Tony flopped back into the suit-shaped hole and mentally checked his body. He didn't feel anything broken. He flexed his fingers and legs and took a deep breath.

"Your vital signs are normal," said JARVIS.

"Good to know. You'll tell me when my heart stops, won't you?"

"Naturally, sir."

Tony stood and he heard an audible _pop_.

"Shit," he said, turning to look down at himself.

In the silence of the woods, there was a loud hissing issuing from somewhere on Tony's back.

The symbols on his HUD suddenly flashed red and he was warned that he was loosing pressure.

"What's happening, JARVIS?" he asked.

"Apparently when you crashed, you tore two hoses, sir," said JARVIS. "Your suit is losing pressurization and leaking antifreeze simultaneously."

"You have got to be shitting me."

"I'm afraid not, sir. It appears your suit is freezing."

Within seconds, Tony felt the difficulty in moving the suit. The hydraulic fluid that propelled each motion, from turning his head to flexing his fingers was freezing inside the chambers. In a few minutes, he wouldn't be able to move at all. He could do without the pressurization. He only needed that when he was flying high. Or when it was freezing outside. Okay, maybe he did need the pressurization.

"The temperature in the suit has dropped below freezing, sir," said JARVIS.

"Fuck," grunted Tony, struggling to walk through the waist high snow. "How close are we to that shelter?"

"Less than a mile."

"Think we can fly this thing?"

"It's only worth your life to try."

"Thanks for the encouragement, honey."

Tony had to manually close the face shield and force his arms to his sides. The repulsors had no trouble igniting. Their technology wasn't as susceptible to the temperature. Tony managed to lean forward and rocket sloppily, slowly, towards the shelter. In a minute, he could see the grey cement walls peeking through the thick forest.

He didn't land. He crashed. He tumbled down onto the scrubby ground outside the building like he was drunk. And despite what the public thought, Tony was never that drunk. He felt stupid not being able to control his suit.

He looked up. The wall was solid. He stumbled to the right, lending the strength of his body to the suit in the hopes that it wouldn't let him down. There was a steel door on the south face of the building, hanging open a crack. Tony kicked it and it opened another few inches with a heavy creak. Rather than take another step, the suit faltered and Tony fell inside the building.

There was no snow and no wind inside, so Tony felt instantly warmer. He reached up to kick the door closed, shutting out the light. He lay shivering inside the suit for a full minute before his head cleared and he realized what would have to happen next.

"Get me Bruce," he groaned softly.

The line rang. And rang.

"Tony? Are you okay? JARVIS just told me you crashed and I couldn't get a hold of you and I panicked!"

There was a faint beeping in the background of the line, but Tony didn't even have the energy to be grateful Bruce was that worried.

"I'm fine," he said, moving to sit up against a wall.

"I'm glad," Bruce said, sounding like he could breathe for the first time in five minutes. "What happened?"

Tony explained the damage to the suit to Bruce who listened intently.

"Where are you?" Tony asked.

"The plane is about to land at the coordinates you sent us. How far are you from there?"

"JARVIS?"

"The shelter is approximately fourteen miles from the landing site, but the snow is over eight feet thick on the ground, sir," said the computer. "The security team couldn't reach you in this weather."

Tony could hear what JARVIS wasn't saying. He wasn't as excited about it as he thought he would be.

"Bruce…"

"Tony, please."

"I need your help," said Tony, trying not to sound as desperate as he was.

"I can't do this," said Bruce. Tony heard the panic in his voice.

"You promised me you would to save my life. You know I wouldn't ask you if I didn't truly need your help. There's nothing else that can be done at all," said Tony, repeating the qualifier Bruce had mentioned the day before.

Bruce groaned on the line. "If we live through this, Tony, I'm going to kill you with my bare not-green hands."

IV

Tony walked Bruce through the process, step by step. The neoprene diving suit for warmth. The activation of the assembly. The hesitation while the machine adjusted for the reduced height of the wearer. The incredibly uncomfortable sensation of being eaten alive by a robotic worm.

"Oh, God," groaned Bruce on the other end of the line.

"Don't move," said Tony. "If you fidget, you'll get pinched."

"OW!"

"I warned you."

"This is a nightmare!" Bruce fairly shouted. "Why would you do this to yourself?"

"You've clearly never been involved with someone whose fetish was latex," said Tony, smirking in spite of his discomfort.

Silence. Then, "You're a pervert."

"Friends with me for six months and you're just piecing that together?"

"It… it's on, Tony. Now what?"

"Double check what you're bringing."

Bruce paused and Tony could hear shifting.

"Hydraulic hoses, fasteners, small tool set, soldering tools, big wrench, can of propylene glycol. Sound about right?"

"Can you throw in one of those packages of those powdery white donut things? I'm starving."

The smile showed in Bruce's voice as he said, "Sure, Tony."

From the rush suddenly coming over the line, Tony knew Bruce was stepping outside the plane into the cold wind and snow.

"God, you're out in this?" gasped Bruce. "I'm on my way."

Tony smiled to himself.

Tony and JARVIS talked Bruce through flying. Luckily the programs in the suit required almost no effort from the wearer anymore. Bruce just had to let the armor do its job. The entire time, Bruce's watch kept up a steady stream of beeps.

"I always hated flying," he said. "But I am impressed with the head's up, Tony. The world looks so… logical through here."

"Thanks, Dr. Spock. I designed it with you in mind," said Tony, rolling his eyes. "How fast is he flying, JARVIS?"

"Approximately eighty-four miles per hour."

"God, Banner. You drive like my grandmother."

"I can't fly sonic on my first try, Stark," warned Bruce. It sounded like he checked himself and he quickly sputtered, "First and _only_ time. You know what I mean."

Tony looked around the dark space around him. The suit's reactor cast a faint glow, but he really couldn't see what the room was like. He was just grateful it kept the wind off of him until Bruce got there. The weight of the suit was hurting him and he took comfort in Bruce's voice on the other end of the line.

A few minutes later, Tony heard a very uncomfortable groan.

"How am I going to land?"

He laughed. "Better than I did."

"No, seriously, Tony," said Bruce. "How do I land?"

"Not like an airplane."

"I gathered as much. And?"

"You have to get close to the ground, right yourself and cut the repulsors."

"That sounds like crashing."

"It is, but it looks freaking awesome when you do it right."

"I'm gonna die."

"Big guy won't let you."

"This is the first time I actually hoped that was true. Say it again?"

"Close to the ground," said Tony.

"Close to the ground," repeated Bruce.

"Right yourself."

"Right myself…"

"Cut the – "

Bruce screamed on the other end of the line.

"JARVIS what happ – "

_Thud!_

"Oh, shit," Bruce groaned over the speaker in Tony's helmet.

"You okay?" asked Tony, successfully stifling his laughter.

"I'll be fine. I cut the repulsors too soon. I… I crashed on the roof."

"Oh, was that you? I thought it was Ded Moroz."

In a moment, Bruce appeared at the door, the Mark V coated in snow.

"Santa," said Tony in wonder. "I knew you'd come."

"Tony, get this thing off me before I die," said Bruce, tossing his canvas dufflebag onto the floor. It clanked loudly on the cement.

Bruce knelt beside Tony, who reached up and pressed the manual release on the neck of the suit. With a series of clinks and whirs, the Mark V rolled into itself, releasing Bruce from its safety and discomfort. In a moment, the suit of Iron Man armor was a brightly colored briefcase on the floor.

"Thank you," Bruce sighed.

He quickly realized how exposed he looked wearing nothing but the dive suit. He opened the duffle and pulled out a carefully rolled snowsuit.

"You prepare well," said Tony, half-amused, half-impressed.

"I wasn't gonna freeze to death for you, Tony, just because you had to follow this ridiculous plan through."

"Fair enough. Help me outta this suit and I'll pay you back the trouble."

"What do I do?"

Tony realized that the frozen hydraulic fluid would make it difficult for the manual release to work. Bruce would have to pry each part off by hand. Tony explained and they worked to free Tony's hands first so he could help.

In fifteen minutes, Tony was shivering in his neoprene suit, aching from his crash with a horrible chilled sensation in his chest.

"Hell," he whispered, unzipping the suit.

"What?" said Bruce, pulling another carefully rolled snowsuit out of the duffle.

"My heart's icy," he said dryly.

"We all knew that. We still accept you, though."

They looked at the scarred, pale skin around the Arc reactor in Tony's chest. The steel cup embedded in his sternum was freezing, causing the skin around to frostbite.

"What do we do?" gasped Bruce. "You said you were fine, so I didn't think to bring a first aid kit."

Tony rubbed at his chest with the heel of his hand, trying to work some warmth back into his flesh. The cold steel was biting into the nerves around it, burning and aching inside much like it did after he'd first acquired it. He didn't think he'd ever have to feel pain like this again.

"There's nothing we can do," he said softly, trying not to groan. "We work fast so you and I can blast out of here in a couple of hours before my lungs get too cold to work."

"The reactor'll keep working, right?" said Bruce, unable to hide the fear in his voice.

"It should. The cycle isn't affected by temperature like some machinery is."

It hurt Tony just to breathe. The skin around the reactor had gone numb while he was talking Bruce through flight. He didn't notice because he was so uncomfortable anyway. But in the warmth of the suit Bruce had brought him, the empty feeling there was as annoying as the pain deep down, under the reactor.

In the tool kit was a small StarkTech light. Bruce put it near the Mark V case and the reactor embedded in the suit powered the light, illuminating the room. Tony finally got to see where he was and part of him was relieved that there hadn't been a skeleton or anything sitting in the corner. In fact, the 20x20 room was almost completely empty. There were the remnants of some old cases and wooden crates, as well as nails and packing fill shreds. A small table stood near the single boarded-up window.

"It looks like they boxed the weapon up here," said Bruce, pointing to the packing material.

"They probably lined the box to reduce the radiation. That's gonna make it really hard for me to track," said Tony, absently rubbing his chest.

"Safer for them, though," said Bruce, examining some of the packing fill. "Found it," he added, picking up a scrap of what looked like black cardboard. "Lead liner."

Tony looked over, not recognizing the material.

"It's used as a minor radiation deterrent. It's a lead-coated fabric. Goes well inside boxes or used as a tarpaulin."

"You know everything about this shit, huh?" said Tony.

Bruce looked like he was torn between smirking and scowling. The actual result, Tony found hilarious.

Tony worked as quickly as he could. Bruce was a great help because minor hydraulic repair was a skill he'd learned a while back working in a factory in Brazil. He tightened hose clamps while Tony connected the pieces of the suit on the floor.

"Maybe I wasn't thinking about this before, but, um…" began Bruce. "…The antifreeze stops the hydraulics from freezing. How do we _unfreeze_ them now that they're already frozen?"

Tony laughed, then winced, because laughing hurt more than breathing.

"Once we get the suit pressurized again, the interior will warm up," he said, not looking up from forcing the shin of the armor to the knee coupling. "It'll thaw me out _and_ the fluid. We'll be back in business in a few."

"Right," said Bruce, sounding very unconvinced.

Tony focused on his work. If there was anything he knew about feelings, it was that working through them made him feel better, be it emotional or physical pain. Granted, right now, the physical pain was more distracting than almost any emotional pain he'd experienced, save for the death of his parents, Afghanistan, and this one stupid fight he'd had with Pepper their first month together.

At least he could count on his mind wandering. He could zone out and work without thinking about what his hands were doing. In fact, zoning out felt unusually comforting right now. Tony almost forgot what he was working on. He almost forgot how much pain he was in. He totally forgot how late in the day it was getting. He completely forgot there was a blizzard growing stronger outside. It was really peaceful. Frighteningly peaceful.

And suddenly, all was black.

___**(Thanks everyone for your feedback on Bruce in the suit. I'm thrilled to know how many people loved it and didn't think it was corny! New chapter soon, I promise! In the meantime, please review. For every review TotW gets, Tony feeds Bruce another buttercream cupcake!)**_


	4. What's Not Broken

Author's note:

Sorry it took so long and is so short. I'm having trouble working back up to the action again. Please excuse the absolute bullshit speak I make up for discussing the weapon in this chapter. It's pretty low-grade hollywood and I apologize.

Please review! For every person to review, Tony Stark adopts a puppy in Cambodia!

_**(a/n: Edit 8-22-2012: I would like to thank everyone for the faves, reviews and helpful criticism. This update includes the smoothing out of minor issues, grammatical errors and continuity inconsistencies. Thanks again for your support. New chapter soon, I promise!)**_

_**(a/n: Edit: 8-23-2012: I fixed a few more boo boos and added a cozy little bonding moment between Bruce and Pepper for my own consideration.)**_

I

"JARVIS! I need your help!"

Bruce clutched Tony's transparent phone in both hands and yelled into it. Normally, he didn't yell. In fact, he only yelled when things were really bad. But right now, he felt pretty justified in his conclusion that things were really bad.

An hour into their work, Tony had dropped unconscious onto his suit. For a second, Bruce had no clue what had just happened, but then, as a loud and steady beeping suddenly erupted from his Italian leather watch, he realized. Tony had passed out.

"Anything I can do, Dr. Banner," said the computer.

"I'm trying very hard not to panic, but I have only treated three cases of hypothermia in my entire life. I'm a little worried," said Bruce, pretending he wasn't concerned about the level of panic in his voice.

"I would recommend bringing Mr. Stark's body temperature back up."

It took all the strength in Bruce's body not to say, "No shit, Sherlock."

He took a deep breath. He counted. He focused on the sound of his breath. He felt the oxygen being absorbed by his lungs. He took another breath. And another. Finally, he found the clearing in his head and he saw everything. When he reached that point, lives got saved. And right now, a very important life needed saving. He was ready.

"JARVIS," he finally said, rolling Tony onto his back and off of the suit, "which device in here could tell me Tony's temperature?"

"The suit would, sir, if he was in it. Try lowering the chest plate over Mr. Stark's body and I'll see if I can get a reading," said the voice from the phone.

Bruce picked up the heaviest piece of the armor, the Arc reactor in the center glowing coolly, and laid it over Tony's chest. The machine was still dead, so nothing hissed or fitted into place, to Bruce's subconscious disappointment.

"Body temperature at 94.3 degrees Fahrenheit," said JARVIS. "This constitutes a mild case of hypothermia, Dr. Banner. Mr. Stark's loss of consciousness could be attributed to his alcoholism, which, in cases of hypothermia, often leads to hypoglycemia."

Bruce nodded as he lifted the chest plate, even though JARVIS couldn't see the gesture. Hypoglycemia made sense, because he honestly couldn't account for the fainting this early on in the case otherwise. If he could get Tony warm and wake him, the powdered donuts Tony had requested earlier should serve to raise his blood sugar and get him back on track quickly.

"First, I gotta warm you up," said Bruce.

He removed his snowsuit and tucked it around Tony as best he could. He knelt beside Tony and rubbed his chest for several minutes before using the chest plate again to gauge his temperature.

"I'm afraid your efforts have only marginally affected Mr. Stark's body temperature, Dr. Banner," said JARVIS from the phone's speaker. "Mr. Stark's temperature is only 94.5 degrees Fahrenheit."

Bruce would swear the AI's voice sounded remorseful. Leave it to Tony Stark to program a computer that could be both sarcastic and remorseful.

"We need to build a fire, JARVIS," said Bruce, rising to look around.

"Indoors, sir, I'm afraid you'll suffocate on the smoke."

The door was wedged shut against the roaring wind outside. There was a single, thick-paned window on the east side of the building. Bruce looked up and noted the roof rose to a point in the center.

"JARVIS," he said, laughing inwardly at his own stupidity, "can you help me attach just one of the Iron Man gauntlets?"

"Step by step, sir," said the computer.

With Tony's prone form wrapped warmly in the corner of the room, underneath the shelter of the worn work table, Bruce stood in front of him and aimed the forearm of the Mark V armor at the peak in the ceiling.

"Just a _tiny_ hole," he said.

"As small as possible sir."

A tiny whine. A loud whoosh. And then a crash that would normally embarrass Bruce if anyone had been around to hear.

"Wow," he said, sincerely impressed at the precision of the weapon in Tony's suit. The blast had been as small and gentle as he had needed to create a hole just under two feet across in the highest point of the ceiling. "Thanks, JARVIS."

"Always a pleasure, Dr. Banner."

Snow swirled down into the hole, but only lightly. The wind seemed to be whipping most of it by too quickly for it to fall into the hole.

In the corner, Bruce dismantled the remains of a wooden packing crate and piled the broken boards in the center of the room. He found some organic packing material for kindling and wadded it neatly in the center of pile.

"JARVIS," he said, "can any of Tony's devices start a fire or do I have to do this by hand?"

"There should be a cigarette lighter in Mr. Stark's pants pocket, sir," said JARVIS.

"Tony doesn't smoke," Bruce mused, kneeling beside Tony.

JARVIS didn't respond.

He was only slightly uncomfortable reaching inside the layers of cold weather suits to Tony's pants. As embarrassing as it was, he was relieved to find a black Zippo in Tony's right front pocket. The scratched metal casing bore the letters H-A-W-S in a swirling script.

"Whew," sighed Bruce, wiping a thin line of nervous sweat from his forehead. As cold as he was without his snowsuit, he still managed to perspire with anxiety. At least his watch had stopped beeping.

The fire lit easily and in a few short minutes, Bruce had a really comfortable blaze going in the center of the room.

"Now, you better not catch fire," he said, carefully dragging Tony's unconscious form closer to the flames. "I don't want to have to throw you into the snow to douse it."

"Mr. Stark does have a tendency to combust, Dr. Banner," said JARVIS. "If I were you, I'd keep a close eye on him."

"Is he always this much trouble?"

"More so, sir. Though, granted, this is his first time developing hypothermia under my watch. But I am on a first name basis with the fire chief of Malibu."

Bruce chuckled. Naturally Tony's AI butler would know the fire chief. Naturally.

With trembling hands, Bruce put his own snow suit back on. He'd be no good to Tony if he couldn't think or move properly from his own mild case of hypothermia. His shivering stopped almost immediately. He stood by the fire and breathed deeply the sticky smell of the treated wood as it burned.

A sense of peace fell on him. With Tony, Bruce never knew what was about to happen. It was Tony's own unique brand of chaos. But in a crisis, with someone injured or bleeding or dying, he at least knew what he needed to do. That purpose kept him sane, kept his heart rate down, kept him from running around screaming. It was a predictable kind of chaos. Fire? Treat burns. Illness? Treat symptoms. Sun stroke? Give fluids. Lives, of course, would always be lost, but he could rejoice in the ones he could save. For a moment, he felt like he was back in Calcutta.

Tony let out a low groan, and Bruce dropped to his knees beside him.

"Tony?"

Tony said nothing else, but looked slightly more peaceful than he had when he first went unconscious. Bruce sighed out of a mixture of frustration and relief. And then he realized that only Tony could make someone feel relief and frustration at the same time. As Bruce lifted Tony up on his side so the fire could warm the chest piece, he thought to himself, _Right now, I know what it is to be Pepper Potts._

"Oh, Pepper!" he said aloud.

"I've been blocking her calls while you were caring for Mr. Stark," said JARVIS suddenly. "I thought the phone ringing might… irritate you, sir."

"Thanks, I think."

"May I try her for you now?"

"Please," said Bruce, picking up Tony's phone from the table.

Pepper's flushed face appeared within seconds.

"Anthony Edward Stark, I'm going to _kill_ y – Bruce?" she stuttered, taken aback to be looking at Bruce instead of Tony.

"Hi, Pepper," said Bruce, smirking sadly at her.

"Where the hell is Tony?"

Bruce knew it was cruel, but he couldn't resist turning the phone around and leaning over so Pepper could see Tony in a sad, unconscious heap on the floor.

"What on earth is going on?!" she cried.

"Tony's hypothermic. We're stranded in the tundra," said Bruce, turning the phone back to himself. "He'll be fine. JARVIS and I are taking good care of him."

"How did he…? Do I… Do I even _want_ to know, Bruce?" sighed Pepper, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands.

Bruce took a deep breath told Pepper everything about Tony's trip out into the cold, the crash, Bruce having to wear the suit and Tony passing out from cold and hunger in the middle of fixing the Mark VII. Pepper watched in awe on the other line.

"And now I'm just waiting for Tony to warm up enough to wake up," Bruce concluded, reaching over Tony's body to rub warming circles around the lump in Tony's snowsuit that was the Arc reactor. "We can't get his strength up again until he's lucid."

"When will he wake up?" asked Pepper, her voice breaking.

Bruce shrugged. "Hopefully soon. As soon as I get some food in him, we can finish the suit and get out of here."

"I'm really disappointed in our security team for not being able to come get you," she said, consulting a tablet.

"Please don't be, Pepper," said Bruce, running his fingers through his hair in tired frustration. "The ground is covered in about ten feet of snow, maybe twelve. They _couldn't_ get out here. Tony…" he paused. "Tony anticipated needing my help. Something tells me he's got an unhealthy determination to find this weapon. It's like he's holding himself responsible for it."

Pepper smiled ruefully. "You'll get used to that, Bruce. I vividly recall a conversation I had with Tony about something similar."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. But let me tell you something. That conversation frightened me more than I would ever want to admit to anyone, but it also made me love him more than I would ever admit to anyone. It chang – No, I'll correct myself." Pepper's smile warmed and she said, "It made me see how wonderful he was. It didn't change how I felt for him. It made me realize what was already there."

"Tony's eccentricities are his strengths," said Bruce, matching Pepper's smile. "I can see that, Pepper. But they're also going to be his undoing."

A silent laugh escaped Pepper, half sigh, and she said, "But that's why he has us. To keep him from breaking."

The pair smiled at one another for a long moment.

"Are you going to be okay, Bruce?"

"Yeah. I promise I'll get Tony back on his feet. Get back to work, Pepper."

"Okay. Will you please call me the _second_ you get back to the plane?"

"Of course."

"Goodbye, Bruce. Be safe."

"You have my word, Pepper. Bye."

The line closed and Bruce found himself suddenly alone. The fallen snow and thick cement walls of the building hushed the roar outside into a dull vibration that matched the sound of blood in Bruce's ears. It was a sullen, weighty quiet. He liked being alone, of course, but there was more than solitude in that place; there was genuine _loneliness_. Bruce found himself silently praying for Tony to wake up so he'd have someone to talk to.

"JARVIS," he said to the phone, "are you like a geisha?"

"I'm afraid my services are quite limited to that end, sir."

Bruce laughed. "I mean trained in the art of conversation."

"I learned from the best," said JARVIS.

"I bet you could be a sarcastic bastard, huh?"

"I could actually put Mr. Stark to shame if I had to. When he designed me, he had in mind someone who could keep up with him."

"Makes sense," said Bruce, absently rubbing the warming circles on Tony's chest. "Tony's damn hard to match. I wish _I_ could keep up with him."

"You do far better than you give yourself credit for, Dr. Banner. There's a reason Mr. Stark values your company so."

"Thanks, JARVIS. You're an alright guy," said Bruce, dozing as he leaned against Tony's still form.

"As are you, Dr. Banner."

II

Bruce was awakened by Tony rolling onto his back and groaning.

"…perfectly legitimate theory, Pep. Gimme back my kite!"

"Tony?" said Bruce, leaning over him and checking his pulse.

Tony's dark eyelashes fluttered and he looked at Bruce.

"You're not Pepper."

"No, I'm the guy who saved your life."

"Pepper's prettier."

"Guy. Who saved. Your life."

"That list is growing every week," groaned Tony, raising a hand to his face.

"Twice," reminded Bruce, smiling wistfully.

"Touché. You're the first on that end."

Tony attempted sitting up and groaned in pain before settling back on the ground.

"Alright, Bruce, wanna fill me in? I feel like I'm reliving Afghanistan."

Bruce looked down at Tony and tried not to smile. "You kinda are."

Bruce related Tony's frostbite and hypothermia and unconsciousness and the subsequent events.

"You blew a hole in the roof?" repeated Tony, looking at Bruce like he thought him a goddamn liar before turning his eyes to the ceiling.

"There's a fire inside this building, Tony. You miss that part?" Bruce smirked. "JARVIS helped."

"JARVIS?"

"Everything's true, Mr. Stark. Dr. Banner proved more resourceful than you had previously concluded," said the voice from the phone.

"Thanks?" said Bruce, digging through his dufflebag for the powdered sugar donuts. "Here," he said, handing one to Tony. "You need to eat to get going again."

Tony eyed the donut, then, in one swift motion, sat up, snatched it out of Bruce's fingers with his teeth, and fell back on the floor.

"Ew!" cried Bruce, wiping his fingers on his snowsuit. "That's gross. Don't do that. I don't know if you've had your shots."

Tony smirked as he chewed.

Shortly, the package of donuts was consumed and Tony's bloodsugar was clearly on the rise. He was on his feet in minutes and nervously attacking the last steps of his project. Bruce just looked on, unable to help or add any input when Tony was on a sugar high. It was as if he was five years old.

Bruce couldn't help but notice, however, that Tony frequently paused to clutch his chest and cough. As he put the finishing touches on the Iron Man helmet, he got into a choking fit that brought him to his knees. Bruce put an arm around Tony's middle and helped him closer to the fire.

"I need to finish this, Bruce," said Tony hoarsely.

"You will," said Bruce, settling down beside Tony, "but you need a break."

Tony glared, but relaxed beside Bruce.

"Trust me, Tony," said Bruce, absently stoking the fire with a board that wasn't burning, "I know about physical limitations."

"I have no physical limitations," said Tony, affronted, rubbing his chest.

Bruce looked at him. He thought perhaps it was best not to say anything to that. He just shook his head. Then he remembered.

"Hey," he said, retrieving the Zippo from his pocket, "this is yours."

Tony glared at the lighter in Bruce's hand and instinctively felt at his hips.

"Where'd you get that?"

"I needed to start a fire," said Bruce. He suddenly felt guilty without knowing why. "JARVIS told me where it was."

Tony snatched the lighter back, flipped it open, lit it, looked at the flame for a full ten seconds, blew it out and tucked the lighter gently into his pants pocket, deep inside his snow suit.

"I'm sorry," said Bruce, realizing on instinct that he'd stumbled upon something sacred by mistake. "You can… You can, you know, tell me…"

Tony looked determinedly at the wall and dragged his fingers across his hips, feeling for the lighter through the layers of down and neoprene. Bruce looked at the fire.

"My dad… was a business man."

Bruce felt eyes on him and looked up to see Tony peeking at him from the very corner of his eye, feigning covertness. Bruce waited patiently for the next sentence.

"He taught me that business is about charm," Tony finally continued.

"That's completely logical and it accounts for your personality," Bruce ventured, smiling.

Tony bit his lip, staring at the fire, which competed with the glow of the reactor for the position of dominant color on Tony's face.

"Charm involved being whatever someone needed you to be. In his time, you could sum that whole concept up in one action: Lighting someone's cigarette."

Bruce frowned, confused.

"Everyone smoked in the forties, fifties and most of the sixties," Tony clarified.

"Ah," said Bruce, nodding.

"If someone was out of matches or couldn't find their lighter, you whip a Zippo out of your pocket and light their cig before they realize it and you're gold. The deal's done, the contract signed, the check posted," said Tony, reaching for the lighter again. He flicked it on before continuing. "I learned when I was twelve that the only time my father smiled at me was when I lit his cigarette."

Bruce didn't know what to say to that. He was suddenly five, trembling on the floor as strong, bruised arms clutched him away from another falling blow. Had his father… _ever_ smiled at him? Somehow, he didn't feel sympathetic towards Tony's situation at all. And yet, simultaneously, Tony had all of Bruce's sympathy. It was a strange and uncomfortable sensation. He could easily imagine the warm light of approval shining from an imaginary father's face; he readily saw himself willing to do anything to earn that approval. Tony's sentiment made sense.

He couldn't think of a response as a sickening mixture of resentment and sympathy weighed on his shoulders, so he leaned over and blew out the flame, earning a confused look from Tony.

"I kept a cheap lighter in my pocket all the time until Dad died," sighed Tony, putting the lighter away again. "I found this one on his nightstand and kept it since then. It's sealed more than one business deal."

Bruce smirked. "Whatever works."

"Speaking of which, I'm not," said Tony, rising. "We need to get the hell out of here before dark."

"Dark?" said Bruce.

"Mr. Stark, it's 8:47 pm local time," said JARVIS through the phone.

"How the hell did that happen?" said Tony, peering through the single dirty window in the building. It was hard to tell night from day through the thick glass, especially with a blizzard outside.

"You were unconscious for over four hours, sir."

"Shit."

Bruce shrugged when Tony looked at him. "I dozed off, so I can't attest."

"Well," sighed Tony in exasperation, "let's get out of here before midnight, then."

"Sounds like a plan," said Bruce.

It only took a few short minutes for the pair to finish repairing and assembling the Mark IX. This model didn't need a compact form to assemble. The standing form simply folded itself open and wrapped around the wearer. Tony thought it was a little trendier to step into the armor's niche in his workshop and let it assemble over him without any effort. Visually, it resembled both the Mark V suit case and the walking arch assembly he'd set up at Stark Tower.

In three seconds flat, after the suit's initial pressurization, Tony was suited. He assisted Bruce in donning the Mark V, which was still incredibly uncomfortable, but this time Bruce was prepared.

"You look dashing in my clothes, Banner," said Tony, smirking at him with the face plate raised.

Bruce grimaced. "I find that incredibly hard to believe when even _you_ don't look dashing in your clothes."

Tony gasped. "You don't think I'm fabulous in my suit? You, the guy whose super power is getting naked in record time?" Tony gestured up and down at Bruce's body. "A pox on thee."

Bruce faltered. He didn't have a snappy comeback to that. "Hey, I look _great_ naked. Kiss my ass, Stark," he quipped.

Tony smirked. "Gladly. Outside, Zoolander. We have places to go and people to 'splode."

The wind was roaring outside. It bit even through the warming layers inside the suit. With his helmet sealed, Bruce saw the HUD labeling everything around him. The temperature was dismal, displayed in a green number on the right side of the screen. It went from 26.8 degrees below zero to 27.2 in the first minute he was outside.

"The suits can make it in this, right?" he shouted over the roar.

Tony's voice sounded in his ear, "No need to shout, Grandpa. We have a comm. system!"

"Sorry," said Bruce. "Reflex."

"And yeah, the suits'll be fine as long as we don't crash again. Damn, there's no chance whatsoever of tracking the radiation," said Tony, rotating in place. "This blizzard and that lead blanket really fucked us."

"All this trouble for nothing," sighed Bruce, folding his arms as best he could in the armor.

"Nothing I do is ever for nothing," said Tony, blasting up to the roof.

"How can this debacle help our cause?"

"Everything I do is for a reason. Come on, you should know me better. I've been taking in information this whole time, cataloguing it, analyzing it," said Tony, walking around the roof of the building as snow whipped around him. "JARVIS has been tracking the plane."

"How can you track the plane?" asked Bruce, sloppily rocketing up to join Tony, landing on one knee.

"I have my ways," he said enigmatically.

As the pair flew back to the plane, Tony had the courtesy to fly slow enough for Bruce could keep up. It was a lot less awkward for him the second time around and a very tiny part of him could see why _some_ people might enjoy being Iron Man on occasion.

"A couple years ago, my buddy Rhodey took one of my suits…" said Tony.

"Colonel Rhodes? I think I met him after the battle in Manhattan."

"Yeah, him. And they gave him this cute nickname. 'War Machine.' You know, 'cause he's in the Air Force and they weaponized the suit."

"Okay? What are you getting at, Tony?" said Bruce, feeling like a punchline was coming.

"You need a cool nickname."

"Nope."

"Come on," whined Tony. "It'll be cute!"

"No."

"Please?"

"Allow me to take a page out of your book of creative negotiating techniques, Tony, and say, 'Fuck no.'"

"Ooh, Brucey, you swore. That's hot."

"Bite my shiney metal ass, Stark," said Bruce, doing something he never dreamed of doing: rocketing past Tony.

Bruce couldn't believe he was racing Tony to the plane in Iron Man armor. He felt like he was a teenager in a souped up convertible. This really went against everything he believed in, everything he worked for. But at the same time… It was really fucking exciting.

Over the comm., Tony was suggesting names and Bruce was trying really hard to ignore them as he focused on flying.

"The Steel Scientist?"

"No."

"The Hurtling Hulk?"

"_No!_"

"The Flying Physicist?"

"Tony, no!"

"The Green Goblin?"

"You're just being a dick now."

By this time, they could see the Stark Industries jet. Tony sped up and Bruce knew that the race was over. But he wouldn't lose for lack of trying. He blasted as fast as he could after Tony. Bruce watched him land (crash) gracefully on the wing of the plane and he made every sane attempt to follow suit. And failed.

First, the plane was upside down. Then, there was moment of blackness. A sizzling sound. Snippets of JARVIS saying something through a damaged speaker. Flashes of the HUD trying to come back online.

"Hey, Big Guy."

"Tony?"

With a small rush, the faceplate opened and Tony was kneeling over Bruce, who suddenly found himself in a snowbank, looking up at the white-silver rush of the blizzard – and Tony's face, smirking out of the Mark IX.

"You okay?"

"I'll be better when I get this horrible suit off and curl up in a warm blanket," said Bruce as Tony helped him to his feet.

"That's one of the fruitiest things I ever heard anyone say. And I've spent time with Navy seamen."

"You're sick, Stark. You know that, right?"

Tony just chuckled as the two boarded the plane.

III

"…Am going to _kill_ you with one of your own robots! Do you understand me? I'm gonna use my emergency override protocols for JARVIS, hack your bot, send it to you wherever the _hell_ you are and have it kill you. Would you like that, Tony?"

"Parts of it, yes."

"Butterfingers and Dummy dismantling _you_ for a change. I know I like it."

Pepper was in the video chat window of the big screen in the plane's cabin. Tony was propped on the lounger with a hot electric blanket wrapped around his chest and a small drug cocktail Bruce had concocted in his system. The glass of scotch in his hand had been recommended against by his "physician" but he had the security clearances to have the plane take off, so Bruce couldn't argue. Tony at least agreed to balance every glass of scotch with a cup of hot tea.

Bruce was sitting beside Tony in a comfortable chair, a blanket around him as well with a cup of steaming chamomile tea warming his hands, watching the show with amusement. There were three bleeding cuts on his arms from where the suit had pinched him and he'd had to do some damage control before the suit was put away. Tony insisted the suit be put through a robotic cleaning process back home rather than risk letting Bruce make a bigger mess of it, so the now dented and bloodied Mark V went into storage for the remainder of the trip. Clear bandage spray had taken care of his arms.

"Pep, my love – "

"Don't you _dare_!"

"Yes'm."

Bruce had never heard Tony say, "Yes'm."

"We both warned you, Tony," piped Bruce for the first time since the conversation began. He smiled behind his mug.

"Stay out, Banner," warned Tony with a finger.

Bruce was about to respond, but Pepper cut across them both.

"We _did_ warn you. I knew that stupid radioactive suit would lead to no good. You almost died! Again! If you hadn't had a spare suit…! If Bruce couldn't fly it…! If JARVIS's comm. had been damaged in the fall…!"

Bruce felt a shadow fall across his own face. Softly, he said, "You'd be dead."

"Nothing new to me. I die all the time," said Tony, stretching back in his lounger. His ribcage popped uncomfortably.

"But it kills me every time," said Pepper, hastily wiping tears from her lashes before the mascara ran.

Tony's look changed. "Oh, Pepper. I'm sorry. I really thought it would work. Look at the bright side! I got some useful data, I tested a fascinating new use for the suit and Bruce learned to fly!"

"I… I didn't… It was a one time thing!" stuttered Bruce, nearly choking on his tea.

Pepper smiled on the screen, her eyes glittering.

"Yeah, sure, one time," said Tony, swallowing an ice cube, which probably wasn't a good idea, considering. "Except for that one time you raced me back to the plane!"

"I… It wasn't…"

"Raced?" repeated Pepper, smirking.

"No! I was _following_ Tony… and he was flying too fast… and I tried to land the way he did…"

"And you crashed. Twice. Which was _awesome_, by the way," said Tony, knocking back the last of the scotch and reaching for a hot mug of tea. "You looked totally awesome the way you did that backflip right before landing."

"I can't believe you got Bruce to race you in an Iron Man suit," said Pepper. Her shoulders shifted as if she'd put her hands on her hips offscreen.

"Oh, hells yeah. I'm gonna make a suit just for him. I'm painting it green and purple. And we're getting him a cool superhero nickname."

"Tony!" said Bruce warningly.

"Nickname? The Incredible Hulk isn't enough?" giggled Pepper.

"Pepper, don't encourage him, please," whined Bruce, giving her his best puppy look.

"Oh, no, no, no. Now that he's flying, we have to _improve_ it."

"Tony!"

"Faster than a speeding centrifuge."

"Tony, stop."

"More powerful than a Tesla coil."

"Tony, I swear to god…"

"Able to solve for X in a single bound."

"I'm going to _kill_ you!"

"It's a beaker! It's a mass spectrometer! It's the Scientist of Steel, Super Bruce!"

_Bam!_

Bruce had punched Tony in the face.

After her initial gasp of shock, Pepper cracked up.

"You sod ob a bidge!" growled Tony, clutching his nose.

"I warned you," said Bruce, hands on his hips, unable to hide his grin.

"I'm godda make you pay for dat lader," said Tony, getting up and running to the bathroom mirror, his hot blanket still wrapped around his torso.

"It's not broken," said Bruce, turning to Pepper.

"He deserved it," she said, smiling knowingly. "Besides, if you did break it, it'd only be the thirteenth time our plastic surgeon had to fix it."

"Thirteenth? Wow, I'd feel special," said Bruce, smirking.

Tony returned shortly.

"Thankfully, I'm still beautiful," he said, glaring at Bruce. "If it was broken, I'd have had to break something of yours."

Bruce shrugged. "I've had it all broken at least once. Nothing new."

"If you girls are through fighting over lipstick," said Pepper on the screen. They turned back to her. "What now?"

"We're on our way back home," said Bruce, sitting back down.

"Via Switzerland," said Tony. The other two turned to him in surprise. "We still have to check on the plane."

"_What_ plane, Tony?" cried Pepper in obvious frustration.

He looked at her and Bruce like they were crazy.

"Duh, the one that's gonna release that superweapon onto mankind and blow up an area the size of France!" he said, tossing his arms into the air.

"Can't the bomb be detonated without it?" asked Bruce.

"No. That's the failsafe. The bomb literally cannot be detonated without a control program on the plane itself. Why do you think they were kept so far apart?"

Bruce collapsed back in his chair, his hands over his face.

"Why didn't you say so from the beginning?" he groaned. "We were panicking for no reason!"

"What prevents the weapon being fired exactly?" asked Pepper.

"It was Hammer's idea. He's obviously not as big an idiot as he wants me to think. The ignition protocols for the Devastator don't exist until someone programs them into the plane, which isn't yet finished. The only way for the weapon to be used right now is if someone dismantles it and rebuilds it into a more traditional weapon." Tony paused to sigh. "And let's be real here. Who'd go to _this_ much trouble for a little bit of plutonium?"

"I'm honestly amazed by Hammer's innovation," said Bruce, rubbing his eyes. "But there's no need to panic yet as long as that plane's safe."

"That's why we're stopping by on the way home. I'm installing my security team there to help keep an eye on it. When it's finished, I'm moving it to my private airfield in LA," said Tony, making a face as he sipped some tea. "Gross, Banner. How do you drink this shit?"

Bruce looked at Pepper, exasperated.

"Put a couple tablespoons of sugar in it, Bruce," she sighed. "He'll drink it all."

"Or some vodka," added Tony. "Or something, you know, _good_, like coffee or cocaine or _something_!"

"I don't think you need coke right now, Tony," said Pepper, running a hand through the end of her ponytail. "You need rest."

"Don't shit me, woman. I slept for hours while Bruce cuddled me," said Tony, emptying several packets of sugar into his mug.

"Uh, kept you _warm_, Tony. You know, so you didn't _die_," said Bruce, handing Tony a stirrer.

"Same thing," shrugged Tony, sipping the now cavity-inducing tea.

"Saved your _life_," said Pepper with such an air of finality, both men were silenced. "Now, I can't take anymore drama. I'm going to spend tomorrow at the spa. Watkins can run the company for a few hours for me. You two call me the second you leave Switzerland so I know what's up. Good night, guys."

Without another word, Pepper was gone and the cabin was silent, save for the muted roar of the engines.

"Tony," said Bruce, sitting up to look at him, "you've had a look on your face the entire time we were discussing the plane. You know something else, don't you?"

Tony smiled over the edge of his mug. "A look?" he purred.

"Come on, Tony, spill. What's the joke?"

"It's not a joke." He paused, stirring his tea, then he sat up and grinned at Bruce. "Only Hammer and a few of the scientists working on the project knew the truth about the ignition protocols."

Bruce nodded for him to continue.

"If they just stole the weapon and nothing happens, it means they just stole what they thought was a powerful nuclear bomb and were unable to fire it. But if attempts are made to steal the plane, it means that the person or persons behind the theft _knows_ about the design."

"An inside job," said Bruce, cocking his head and thinking hard. "But they already had insiders, like Reynolds, right?"

"Right, but Reynolds didn't know about the plane."

"He didn't?"

"Nope," said Tony, bobbing his eyebrows at Bruce. "Like I said, only a handful know, including a couple working on the bomb and a couple working on the plane. Between us all, less than ten people know the truth."

"Okay, so who could be that inside and still not be working on the project?" mused Bruce, still not seeing the big picture Tony was hinting at.

Tony chuckled. "That's why we're going to watch and wait for this plane to get stolen. If something happens to it, we'll know once and for all who's behind the whole thing."

"You're starting to sound like a pulp detective, Tony," said Bruce, laughing.

"I'm starting to feel like one, my dear Dr. Banner."


	5. Up

**Warning: Long author's notes.**

**So first I apologize for taking so long to post this. I truly intended to finish this chapter before my classes started and I failed.**

**I knew my writing would slow once school started, but I promise not to ignore y'all.**

**Second, this entire chapter is dedicated to xkittybluex. She helped set up Bruce's German and inspired the chapter that will follow this one. { fanfiction dot net /u/1600797/ }**

**Third, I'd like to note that I recently revised all my previous chapters, trying to clear up a few inconsistencies and errors. If there's something about the story that bugged you the first time around, please go back and look and see if it's clearer now. Feel free to hit me up if I didn't fix it. Please note, however, that the fixings haven't affected the main story, so it's not necessary to go back over them. Oh, unless you wanna dig the cozy bonding convo between Bruce and Pepper I added in Chapter 4. But again, not necessary.**

**Fourth, I have barely glanced over this chapter, so please note any glaring errors or inconsistencies you might find. I wrote this in a hurry and I feel I didn't delve into Bruce and Tony's personalities properly during the first half. I hope I earned your love back by the end of it.**

**Fifth, I will dedicate a chapter to you if you can point out the real life RDJ ref I put into this chapter.**

**Sixth, I apologize profusely for the bullshit aeronautics, engineering and science I invented for this. I tried to do my research, I did, but sometimes, fact (or access to such) falls short and you gotta wing it. Plane pun? I'm sorry. It was an accident. I'm so sorry for everything. What is this shit? I also apologize for making Tony flirt with Bruce. It's just fun. I like making Bruce uncomfortable. I'm a bad mommy.**

**a/n 8-29-12 I fixed a few of the most glaring errors. again, please point out any you catch. thanks, loves.**

I

As the Stark Industries jet landed on a dirt airstrip outside the tiny town of Drei Grüne Hügelland, Aargau in northern Switzerland, Tony was on the phone with someone from Premier Aviation, and being yelled at in German.

"No, nein, to _land_, bitte. Das landen, for fuck's sake."

"Sir, bitte beruhigen Sie sich," said the frustrating German speaker.

Bruce walked in from the restroom and observed in silence.

"Get me the fuck off this plane, por favor, s'il vous plait, bitte crappen shitten fuck," cried Tony, hitting his phone against the lunch table. "Or at least someone who speaks English!"

Bruce calmly reached across and said, "May I?"

"Knock yourself out," sighed Tony, collapsing on the table as he handed Bruce the phone.

"Entschuldigen Sie bitte," said Bruce, sitting down opposite Tony. "Mein Name ist Doktor Bruce Banner. Ich spreche, er…im… oh, Namen von Mr. Tony Stark. Wir sind auf Bitten von Justin Hammer hier um, ah… shit, ah… den Fortschritt an seinem Flugzeugdesign zu prüfen."

A long pause as Tony could hear the other person chattering.

"Ja, ja, danke. Eine Viertelstunde? Großartig!," said Bruce, hanging up the phone.

"What the hell was that?"

"I got us permission to land."

"_How_?"

"By being polite and speaking their language, literally."

"You sicken me."

By then, Tony's plane had finished refueling at the rustic airport – that is, a tin shed, fuel tank, and decrepit Korean War-era plane – and the pilot stuck his head in the cabin to enquire whether or not Tony had gotten clearance for them to land at the aircraft designing company's private airstrip.

Tony glared as Bruce smiled benignly and said, "We're all good."

"I hate you, Banner. Seriously. How do you speak German?" mumbled Tony, kicking back in his seat.

"I speak a lot of languages, Tony."

"I wasn't aware you ever fled civilization to the wilds of the… the Alps?"

Bruce chuckled. "I learned it in high school, Tony. It has nothing to do with my travels. Although, admittedly, it has come in handy."

"Don't let Cap catch you speakin' that shit."

Bruce shot Tony a disapproving look. "He's almost fluent, Tony. You're so insensitive."

"I think someone gave me a trophy that says exactly that."

By the time the pair had finished bickering, the plane was circling low over the private airstrip and they had quite a view from the window. The town was nestled at the base of three fertile, wooded hills that stayed vibrantly green all year long. It was a farming community not far from Wettingen that raised grains and grapes for ale and wine. On the other side of the hills, Premier Aviation had built one of their factories on the vast green plain that spread for miles to the forest in the distance.

"Do we need our long underwear, JARVIS?" Bruce asked the ceiling.

"I am fairly certain you won't, Dr. Banner; it is currently 49 degrees Fahrenheit in Drei Grüne Hügelland. Unless you feel personally inclined to wear the undergarments, in which case, that is your business.

Bruce grinned. "No, I'm good. Thanks. That's a big damn change from Russia, isn't it?"

"Something about this area," said Tony, zipping up his favorite leather jacket, "it's very temperate. I been through here a few times. Very pleasant."

Bruce glanced at him.

"Pepper's German is better than mine and I get by on French."

"Oh, so you _can_ speak more than one language," said Bruce, smirking as he grabbed his own jacket.

"Fuck, Banner, I can swear in seven different languages."

"Only seven?"

II

Premier Aviation Aargau – or PAA for short – was a state of the art facility. It had fifty acres of airfields, a three acre, three story R&D building, two acres of administration, and seven assembly hangars that reached into the distance like massive greenhouses.

"Impressive," said Bruce, stepping off the plane. He zipped his jacket shut as a damp wind whipped down from the hills.

"Even I have to admit it's something. I bet they could really offer some insight into the stabilizers I've been designing for the Mark X," said Tony, putting on his sunshades.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," said a tall man in a pale grey business suit, approaching them from the main building on a Segway. "Raoul St. George. I'm the plant's overseer."

Tony and Bruce introduced themselves, shaking his hand. Tony distinctly disliked the way St. George's uncut black hair bobbed on his shoulders when he shook hands. Perhaps it reminded him subconsciously of Loki. He wasn't certain.

"I hope you don't mind me asking for identification, gentlemen," said St. George, his Suisse accent heavy. "I know Mr. Hammer sent some friends to come check the status of a project, but this is a very high security facility."

"You want _me_, Tony Stark, to give you proof of identity?" scoffed Tony, smirking.

"You have a very common face, sir."

The sound of indignation Tony made should not be reproduced at all. Nor should the spluttering sound he made next.

"Sir," cut in Bruce, "if you'll check the news, I've been a little off the grid for a few years. I don't have a photo ID."

"Oh, I wouldn't ask two high profile individuals such as yourselves for a photo ID card," said St. George, chuckling as he motioned the pair towards the main building.

Tony and Bruce looked at each other in relief.

"I just a need a retinal scan."

"What?" barked Tony. "That's impossible. My retinas have never been scanned at all. You're not making that happen."

"Oh, dear. Ever?"

"Ever."

"Well, we'll have to find another way."

"This is shit," said Tony, pulling out his phone. "I can prove to you I'm Tony Stark by hacking into your facility with _this_ and giving myself top clearance to your own office."

"You can't do that."

"Watch me, asshole."

As the trio stepped up to the sliding glass doors at the facility's administrative building, they parted and a cool synthesized voice said, "Welcome back to Premier Aviation, Aargau, Mr. Stark."

St. George stood in shock on his scooter.

"If it'll make you more prone to believe me, I can make all the computer screen savers in the building say, 'Justin Hammer is a jackass who steals my ideas.'"

"No, Mr. Stark, that won't be necessary," sighed St. George, rubbing his face with his hand.

"Wait, no I actually like, 'Bruce Banner's hair is pretty' a lot better."

Bruce rolled his eyes as Tony laughed at his own joke.

"I need some time off," mumbled St. George to himself. "Please come inside," he added to the pair.

"Of course I'm coming inside," said Tony, winking at Bruce, "it's _my_ building!"

"Alright, Tony. Easy now," said Bruce, smirking in spite of himself.

"So, you guys do know about what happened in Siberia, right?" said Tony, wheeling on St. George as he parked his Segway.

"Excuse me?"

"Siberia," repeated Tony.

"What's in Siberia?"

"Nothing," said Tony, spinning on his heel and making a lip zipping motion to Bruce.

"Did something happen to another of Hammer's projects?" asked St. George. "Is that why he's checking up on them all?"

"Ah, a minor threat," said Tony, nodding solemnly. "Just making sure all the bases are covered."

"Naturally," mumbled St. George as he typed something on a holographic computer screen similar to the ones at home in Tony's lab. "Before we go to the hangar would either of you like a drink? We have locally bottled water. It's very refreshing."

Bruce took one out of politeness and did marvel at its crisp taste as they walked across the lobby. It reminded him of his time in Canada.

"Where are we going?" said Tony. "The airfield's out that way."

"Those are only finished products," said St. George. "And our mid-level projects are all in the main hangars outside. Our top-secret projects, like this one, are all below ground."

"That's both ominous and comforting," said Bruce, glancing at Tony from the corner of his eye. The look was returned.

"Now, I'm only the head of the facility. I actually know little to nothing about the projects themselves beyond finance, client, etcetera. I'm going to hand you over to the head of this project. He can tell you more."

"Delightful," said Tony, barely hiding his sarcastic grin.

They came out on the opposite end of the building. There was a large courtyard that clearly served as an outdoor lounge area for employees. The R&D building was opposite the administrative, the hangars farther off to the left and an employee parking area to the right. In the middle of the space was an ornamental stone fountain with a target-shaped series of small flowerbeds around it. Grapevines and roses everywhere were bare for the winter. A pair of young women sat on a cement bench, smoking silvery cigarettes in the crisp air.

"Nice place," said Bruce, smiling.

"You like every Zen garden you come to, don't you, Banner?" quipped Tony.

"Just about."

"Umar!" called St. George.

"Yes, sir!"

A young man of Middle Eastern heritage was jogging across the courtyard to meet them. He had a handsome, rugged face and shaggy black hair. He looked a tad too young to be the head of any project beyond high school science.

"Please escort Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark to the Hammer project, please," said St. George. "If you or they need anything, don't hesitate to contact me."

As the overseer strutted back to the main building, the young man looked the pair over, recognition igniting his features.

"Doctor… _the_ Dr. Banner?" he gasped, clasping his hands together.

"I… I guess. If you mean _the_ Dr. Banner who gets angry and – "

" – and yada yada yada," interrupted Tony. "There's only one. It's him."

"My god, it's an honor to meet you, sir," said Umar, taking Bruce's hand and shaking it violently. "My name is Dr. Umar Hassan – but Umar, please. Before I went into aeronautics, I considered nuclear physics because of _you_. Your work in gamma production – positron collisions – it's all remarkable. In fact, I actually went into _nuclear_ aviation to reconcile my two passions."

Tony was biting his tongue so hard it hurt, trying to stifle his laughter. Bruce was flushed and smiling shyly, trying to calm the young man down.

"You're one of my top five heroes in science."

"There's a list?" said Bruce, smirking.

"You know, I invented a weaponized flying suit of armor in a cave," said Tony, putting his arm around Bruce's shoulders.

"Oh, I know all about you, too, sir. If Dr. Banner's on my top five, you're in the top ten. It's a thrill to meet you," said Umar, clutching Tony's hand next. You're one of the reasons I had to consider aeronautics. I wanted to work with the British military and help save lives."

"You made the right choice, kid," said Tony, looking a little more proud for a moment and a little less vain.

"I take it you're the head of Hammer's plane project?" asked Bruce, clearly desperate to change the subject.

"Oh, yes. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to gush. It's just amazing to see two of the brightest minds in the world standing in front of me at my place of work. It's an honor. What… what brings you two here?" he said, turning to lead the pair to a small outbuilding near the hangars.

"You don't know?" said Tony.

"No, I know why, I just… I don't understand why Mr. Hammer would send you two. Doesn't he have a rivalry with you, Mr. Stark?"

"The situation is delicate," said Tony, striding across the lot with his hands in his jacket pockets. "Rivals or not, I was the only one he trusted."

"And I'm the only one Tony trusted," said Bruce with more than a little pride. "So here we are."

"Naturally," said Umar. "I'm so glad."

"Do you know about Siberia?" asked Tony, looking at the young man out of the corner of his eye.

Umar's black-brown eyes narrowed. "I know all about it. I'm the only one here who knows that much. Do _you_ know about it?"

Tony smirked. "More than I'd care to admit."

Bruce grinned knowingly at the look Tony shot him.

"Nearly died of hypothermia when my suit malfunctioned tracking the you-know-what across the tundra."

The young man looked awed. "Only Tony Stark would pursue a stolen weapon across the frozen tundra in a weaponized metal suit. Amazing."

"Bruce had to save me."

Umar's eyes widened considerably, almost sparkling with wonder.

"It was nothing really. Tony, stop boring the man. We have work to do," said Bruce, smiling with gritted teeth.

The small outbuilding turned out to be an elevator, slightly larger and more modern than most. It was clearly only the staff entrance to the underground facility; the freight elevators weren't visible anywhere. Umar leaned into a holographic retinal scanner and the building allowed them access.

"Now, I have to ask you gentlemen to please not touch anything. I know that's a terribly juvenile and uncivilized request to make of distinguished scientists like yourselves, but it's not only standard plant procedure but sometimes necessary. Our facility is state of the art and some of our equipment is extremely sensitive; sometimes, the most innocent interaction can be detrimental. If there's anything you need to see, please ask me and I'll see to it that you do."

Tony and Bruce nodded as the elevator went down what felt like seven stories. It stopped at the only floor beneath the surface and the doors slid open.

"Remarkable," whispered Bruce as Tony started beside him.

The facility was massive. Shaped vaguely like a traditional airplane hangar, its iron struts arching fifty feet over their heads, it looked like an underground bunker. The Devastator plane was suspended from the ceiling by five cable wenches. It looked like a half-eaten antelope carcass: white alloy ribs and struts showed through a platinum-colored hull. It was nearly 4/5 finished, but the lacking hull made it look raw and weak; it was only slightly bigger than a Cessna. On the white cement floor, about a dozen people were making notes and calculating equations on Starktech screens that floated and followed them everywhere. The walls were lined with freshly machined parts, fabricators, computers, painters, scale models of the craft, lab tables and more pale blue holographic screens than one could count.

"I appreciate the high level of me I'm detecting," said Tony, swaggering out of the lift.

"It's all so…" began Bruce, losing the point he wanted to make in his awe.

"Yeah, Umar, why _is_ it all 'so…'?"

"Pardon, Mr. Stark?"

"Tony's fine, kid. But Bruce is right. Why so much shit for a tiny plane?"

Umar blinked at Tony for a moment.

"Oh, you're wondering why such a massive team and facility are required for such a small project," said Umar, smiling. "You see, this craft requires extremely precise balancing. The weight it's meant to carry, the delivery system, the cloaking system, the altitude it must _reach_ for that system to function, all require so much calibrating and recalibrating, calculating and re-calculating, that it's overwhelming. We've been at this for two and a half years. But I am proud to say we should have it finished this week."

Tony and Bruce both turned in shock, their minds racing.

"This week?" they repeated in unison.

Umar was taken aback by the sudden change in their demeanor.

"Yes, sirs. Mr. Hammer forwarded the final payment to us two weeks ago, allowing us to get our hands on a new lighter alloy for the hull, rectifying several of the weight issues we'd faced. It's perfect now. The new material helped clear up several inconsistencies in the calculations. We're very proud."

"Did Mr. Hammer know you were facing difficulties?" asked Bruce, relaxing his face.

"Of course. I asked him myself in a secure phone call for additional funding to, _literally_, get this project off the ground. He was thrilled to comply."

Tony bit his lip. "Where did the new alloy come from?"

"Some advanced research lab in Japan, I think. Okanasa Alloys, I think?" said Umar, scrunching his nose thoughtfully. "Michelle usually gets our materials. She'll know. Shall I ask her?"

"Tell you what, Umar. I'm going to make a list of all the information I'd like you to send me. I promise, everything's secure on my devices. I just need to clear up some things. I'm fearing a…" Tony paused, looking up at the plane. "I'm fearing a leak somewhere between here and Hammer."

"I understand, sir. I'll have the info sent to you before you leave today," said Umar, retrieving from his pocket a Stark Industries phone and typing a note into it.

"Nice phone," said Tony, unable to hide a smile.

"We only have the best here," said Umar, winking.

III

Tony and Bruce examined the hangar with awe. The employees were some of the most brilliant minds in aeronautics. The equipment was so high-tech even Tony didn't recognize all of it, though his name was on a good third of it.

Though almost everyone worked in the same space, everything about the plane's creation, from rough design ideas to fabrication and painting was compartmentalized. Very little information beyond the obvious (like the hull structure) was shared between team members. The programmer and painter were the best of friends, but neither of them knew anything about the other's work on the plane. Tony and Bruce spent considerable time questioning the employees on what they did specifically on the project, conscious of the fact that most of their questions couldn't be answered due to contractual obligations. Tony admired everyone's dedication even as JARVIS took meticulous notes on what was and wasn't said.

The models of the plane all functioned and could actually be flown around the space using one of the holographic screens as a control pad. Tony and Bruce spent no less than fifteen minutes each, during the design team's lunch break, of course, flying the 1/32 scale model plane around the belowground sitting area, making the employees laugh; they each had killed more than an hour on the model when it was newer.

Tony spent most of his time there listing the questions he had for Umar. He was formulating a hypothesis in his mind about Hammer's plane. It was clear to him that someone found out how close the plane was to completion and wanted to have the weapon ready to go. That the weapon was stolen just a week before the plane was completed, both Bruce and Tony wholeheartedly agreed was no coincidence. There was a leak somewhere.

The entire time Tony and Bruce were in the underground hangar, JARVIS was scanning all the Starktech equipment in the building through Tony's phone, which was hidden safely in his pocket. Everything that didn't pertain to the case was ignored, but any correspondence that linked to Hammer personally, Russia, or any nuclear-related keywords was highlighted and saved to Tony's phone.

"Umar, could you tell me a little more about the plane's specs?" said Tony as casually as he could. "In private?"

Umar caught on and ushered Tony and Bruce into his own office and closed the door. It was a small space, but the young engineer had decorated it sumptuously. The furniture was exotic and expensive, and there was a painting that looked very much like a Renaissance-era original. The wall opposite the desk was dedicated entirely to a row of ceiling-high bamboo that was floating in a wall-length basin.

"What would you like to know?"

"Well, like an overview to start. The delivery system. How do the employees not know what they're working on?"

Umar sat on the edge of his desk and his eyes wandered down to a photo of him and his parents.

"They know it's for a weapon," he said slowly. "They just don't know what sort. I think they're under the impression that it has something to do with a newer version of your old Jericho missiles."

"Old?" repeated Tony, affronted.

Bruce smiled. "There's truth to that," he said. "Who told them that?"

Umar raised his eyebrows and looked at Bruce knowingly. "There's no way to have something like this built without telling the employees things."

"I know," said Bruce, sitting on the arm of the expensive-looking leather sofa. "I'm amazed you were able to keep this kind of secrecy as it is. But they did have to find out some things. Did you tell them?"

Umar sighed. "When the project started, I told them the plane was to be a prototype for a new kind of weapons delivery system. The weapon prototype was being designed and tested in the Southwestern United States by a separate contractor and couldn't be brought to our facility, but we had the specs. When both components were finished, they were to be tested at a private island facility in the South Pacific."

"That's a good story, kid," said Tony, examining the painting with his hands in his pockets. "Yours?"

Umar smiled and said, "Mi – er, _Tony_, I am a professional secret-keeper. You were a weapons designer yourself. You should understand the importance of secrecy. Yes, I have lied to my employees, but for no other reason than the legal protection my clients are contractually due."

"I don't think Tony meant to question your motives, Umar," said Bruce, folding his hands. "I think he's trying to narrow suspects."

"Narrow suspects?"

"Someone at the facility in Siberia was bribed. We just want to make sure that's not happening here. By comparing what you've told the employees with what they know, we can figure out who might be the leak."

"It never occurred to me that anyone on my team would be a threat to the project. They're all amazing, dutiful people. And, well, not to put too fine a point on it, but we're being paid generously," said Umar, reaching for his coffee cup. "I honestly would laugh if someone tried to bribe me."

Tony shot the young man a look that only Bruce saw.

"We'll clear it all up once I get everyone's names. JARVIS'll get a background check going on all of – "

"JARVIS?! _The_ JARVIS?" gasped Umar.

Tony slapped his forehead and Bruce suppressed a giggle.

"Can I talk to him?"

Tony rolled his eyes as he pulled out his phone.

"J, give this kid an autograph or something," he sighed.

"How can I be of service, Dr. Hassan?" said the AI through the phone's speaker.

"It's an honor to meet you, JARVIS!"

"It's an honor to meet you as well, Doctor. If I'm not mistaken, you're the youngest person ever to lead such a distinguished team of aeronautics designers. Your family must be very proud."

The young man looked like he was going to faint.

"I didn't know this," said Tony, looking at his phone. "How did you know it?"

"I'm currently performing background checks on every name that comes up on this project, sir," replied JARVIS.

"I feel honored to be background-checked by Tony Stark's actual Rather Very Intelligent System. Thanks for letting me talk to him, Tony! I'm tweeting this right now."

"You can't _tweet_ about this!" said Bruce.

"No one knows _why_. I'm just letting my close friends know I got to meet you guys," said Umar, typing frantically on his own phone. "In fact, I need a picture. Right now. I can't believe I didn't think of this before!"

Bruce turned to Tony. "_This_ is how leaks happen. You don't have to bribe people anymore. Just give a young person a phone and watch all hell break loose."

Umar squeezed the three of them together for a photo, requesting of course that Tony include JARVIS by holding up his own phone.

"That's not geotagged is it?" said Tony as Umar uploaded the pic.

He smirked. "Despite how this appears, I actually take great care not to reveal anything. To everyone I know, this office is upstairs in the admin building and I design aircraft for lazy billionaires."

"That's not far from the truth," shrugged Bruce.

"What happens when it's going around that I'm visiting aeronautics facilities?" groaned Tony.

"Oh, come on, Tony. Since when are you careful about anything?"

Tony paused. And thought. And finally shrugged.

"Touché, Banner. Touché."

"Now back to the actual point. More about the plane?" said Bruce, sitting back down.

"Right," said Umar, pocketing his phone. "I know almost everything about it. What can I tell you?"

"Who knows that it's for a nuclear weapon?" asked Tony.

"Only one person. Michael O'Neill. He's the computer programmer who's responsible for the launch system. He's the one who makes sure _this_ plane recognizes _that_ weapon. He's the only one besides me who knows it's nuclear. He doesn't know anything beyond that, though. He's the same as the rest of the team in all other respects."

Tony nodded, physically making the note on his phone. Bruce shuffled his feet.

"Do any of the people here know Hammer personally?" asked Bruce.

"Not that I know of. Traditionally, we don't design weaponized planes here. We mostly aim for better, faster, smarter, not stronger," said Umar. "This is one of only a handful of weaponized planes we've made out of thousands of civilian, commercial and government projects. We're working on something that can handle both mach three flight and underwater travel."

Tony and Bruce's eyes met and they both stifled smirks.

"That sounds futuristic," said Bruce, biting his lip.

"I look forward to seeing that completed project," deadpanned Tony.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Yes?" said Umar.

"Umar, Hodges needs to see you right away," said a petit blonde woman, poking her head in.

"Oh, dear, what is it now?"

Umar rose and left Tony and Bruce alone in his office. The woman waited until he was out of hearing distance before stepping in and closing the door.

"I know what you two are after," she said softly. "You won't find it here."

Tony and Bruce looked at each other.

"Excuse me, miss?" said Bruce, rising and approaching her.

She held up her hands and backed away.

"When you leave, you'll get a text message," she said, brushing soft curls back from her face. "If you get into trouble before heading back to the States, go to the location in the text. They'll take care of you."

With that, the young woman whirled around and left them alone.

"What the hell was that?" breathed Bruce, reaching for his phone in his pocket.

Tony clutched his own phone tighter. "That was creepy as shit."

IV

The rest of Tony and Bruce's visit was spent being ignored by the petit blonde. They had casual conversations with almost every other employee except her. Clearly she knew something about… well, _something_, but they were both damned if they knew what that something was.

Tony contented himself with compiling information for the duration of his stay. Bruce hypothesized until his head felt hot and he was glad for the bottles of mineral water.

When it was clear they could learn nothing more on-site, they exchanged contact information with a few people, including Umar, and asked to be seen out. In the elevator, Tony thought it prudent to tell Umar that he was leaving his security team there to supervise.

"Absolutely not," said Umar as politely as if he'd just turned down a cup of tea. "We have the best security here."

"I know I can't force you to take them," said Tony with a tone that implied the exact opposite. "But Hammer gave me permission to do anything and everything necessary to stop this. If you have to clear it with the boss, then fine. Tell them they're consulting designers or some shit. But they need to be here. They'll keep me in the loop and make sure nothing bad happens here."

Umar looked unconvinced as they stepped out of the elevator into the bright autumn sunshine.

"I do not think it a good idea at all, Tony," he said, looking out across the airfield. "But that said, I'll concede simply because, in the unlikely event something bad does happen, I don't want it to be because I didn't do everything in my power to stop it."

"I appreciate that sentiment," said Tony, smirking.

"You trust these men?"

Tony looked shifty. "It's not a matter of trust so much as of having a contract with each of them promising double what anyone else could ever offer them."

"I'm certain there's more to the relationship than that," said Umar, looking concerned.

"A little more, but that's the gist," said Tony.

"Right."

"They won't be in the way. They're professionals."

Umar sighed. "If you can clear it with Mr. St. George, it's good with me."

Tony and Bruce then bid goodbye to Umar. The young man seemed genuinely disappointed to see them go. Bruce and Tony were actually a little relieved to be out of his adoring gaze.

They made a brief stop in the administrative building to talk to St. George about the security team. Fearing Stark-style repercussions, he readily complied.

At the plane, one of the team stepped out to greet them.

"Mr. Stark," he said, "PAA refueled the plane for you. We won't have to stop to refuel on the way home."

"Awesome."

The three security guards were given specific instructions on who to keep an eye on, suspicious things to look for, and what to do in any given situation. They'd basically stand guard on the plane night and day. They could handle the job; Tony handpicked men without families so he never had any guilt trips.

When the plane was finished, the team would escort it to Malibu on a US Air Force cargo plane Tony would requisition on a favor. It wouldn't be out of their sight for more than a few minutes at a time until Tony could store it at his own private airfield.

Tony bid his team good luck and boarded his own plane with Bruce on his heels.

Both their phones beeped before the door closed, notifying them of text messages. They sat down to read them. Both messages said the same thing. A street address in Salzbourg they didn't recognize.

"What do you think this about, Tony?" said Bruce, checking the address on a map. It appeared to be a warehouse in a poor neighborhood. "What would we do in Austria? We're on our way home."

"I don't know, man," said Tony, scratching his chin absently. "I'm confused myself, and me admitting confusion is a rare thing. I almost feel like we should go see."

"I don't see why," Bruce replied, fastening his seat belt for the take off. "She only said if we ran into trouble. I don't see that happening soon."

"You're right. But I'm having JARVIS look into the connection between that lady, Hammer and Salzburg."

"Right away, sir," said the AI.

Bruce settled in and opened a small bag of goldfish crackers, munching contentedly. Tony nervously drummed his fingers as he stared intently at the wall across from him. The plane itself rose gracefully in the air over Premier Aviation, but neither of them thought to look out the window; Bruce was busy unwinding and Tony was busy… well, _winding_.

They were in the air ten minutes when the pilot announced a problem.

"Mr. Stark, I think you should get up here."

"Holy shit," mumbled Tony, trying to jump out of his seat. The safety belt held him in place and he swore ferociously as he unfastened it.

"What's going on?" he demanded of the pilot.

"I wish I knew, sir."

"What the hell does that mean?"

The pilot, George, who'd worked for Tony for a good nine years, looked up. "I don't know, sir. I'm getting simultaneous readings that are completely contradictory."

"Like?"

"Well, this keeps telling me we're losing altitude," he said, gesturing to a gauge. "But as you can see, we're level. And the fuel gauge is flashing back and forth between full and empty. It's baffling. I've had gauges and sensors malfunction, but there's like, seven of them going nuts! I've never seen this before."

"Is it a computer virus?" asked Bruce, joining them in the cockpit.

"I don't think so," said George. "I don't think autopilot would be maintaining level flight if that was the problem."

"JARVIS," said Tony, whipping out his phone. "What the hell is going on?"

The phone was dead. JARVIS's know-it-all voice didn't issue from any of the speakers in the plane.

"JARVIS!"

Bruce checked his phone. It too was dead. At first, it appeared that the batteries were dead, but Tony's phone could be charged by holding it near his reactor and even then, it still didn't respond. It was more than batteries.

"Okay, I'm getting worried, Tony," said Bruce, leaning in the doorway. "What's going on?"

"There's no need to panic as long as we're flying safely," said George. "But if we don't get our equipment back online, we can't find New York, you know? We'll have to land somewhere and check this out."

"But you just said we don't know where we are," said Bruce.

"Don't worry about that, man. I'm a professional. I just need a control tower and a flat place."

"Sir!" cried JARVIS's voice suddenly, startling all three men.

"What, JARVIS?" barked Tony.

After a long pause, he resumed, "…em-eye device…"

"What?"

"An EMI device, sir!"

Tony realized that there wasn't silence between JARVIS's words but soft static.

"A what?" repeated George.

Bruce looked concerned. "To put it simply, a signal jammer," he said, running his fingers through his hair. "Damn. This is… bad."

"Not too bad," said Tony, striding to the back of the cabin, where his suits were stored.

"You're not getting in a suit while there's an EMI device on board, Tony," gasped Bruce, grabbing Tony's arm.

"If I don't, we won't be able to find an airport and George'll have to eyeball it. That's dangerous."

"…less risky…"

"Say again, JARVIS," said Tony.

"…isky than flying blin…"

"I think JARVIS just said flying in the suit is less risky than flying blind in this plane," said Tony, smirking at Bruce.

Bruce lowered an eyebrow. "That's a mighty big inference from four broken words, Tony."

Tony gripped Bruce's shoulders.

"You do know I have an electromagnet in my chest, right? Don't you think my suits are _designed_ to resist electromagnetic interference?" he said with more sincerity than Bruce was used to.

"Jesus, Tony!" cried Bruce, gripping the collar of Tony's shirt. "You're flickering!"

Bruce had only seen that happen once, in fractured glimpses through green eyes. He was terrified.

"Oh, so I am," said Tony, looking down. "It happens."

"Is it gonna stop?"

"No, no. The power's just intermittent. It'll be fine."

"You sure?"

"Suddenly want me in the suit, now, huh?"

"Yes, Tony. For god's sake, get in the suit."

"I like it when you're bossy."

Bruce gave Tony a shove that was somewhere between playful and violent.

Tony hurried to the Mark IX and let it assemble over his clothes. He watched with barely contained glee as the heads-up display came online and suddenly the world made sense. He dismissed the files on Bruce and George that popped up immediately as well as the weather reports and various tracking programs he kept going even when the suit was off. He needed a very clear display.

"Sir, can you hear me?" said JARVIS in his ear.

"Sure glad to hear your voice, buddy," said Tony, smirking.

"I'm running sensors. It appears the device was installed on the fuel tank door."

"Tony," said Bruce. "Is the suit fully functioning?"

"As far as JARVIS and me can tell."

"What are you going to do?"

"Gotta get outside and get that piece of shit off my plane," said Tony, heading to the exit door. "Hey, George!" he called to the cockpit.

"Yeah?"

"Slow this baby down, okay?"

"Sure thing, Mr. Stark!"

Tony opened the hatch. As air was sucked out, Bruce was almost knocked off his feet. Tony caught him with one strong arm and set him right.

"I'll just wait here," said Bruce, grabbing the back of a seat for stability.

"Shut this once I'm out, alright?" said Tony, bailing out.

"Sure thing," said Bruce to the empty space.

Even through the suit, the air rushing by roared in Tony's ears. He fell a few hundred feet before activating his thrusters and righting himself. JARVIS showed the EMI device on the HUD as a bright red circle. It looked like it was nestled up under the plane's wing.

"Is it _in_ the fuel tank, JARVIS?" said Tony, rocketing up towards the plane.

"It appears so, sir, but I can't be certain. The level of energy it is intermittently emitting disrupts my sensors," said the AI.

Tony grabbed the wing and edged up it, holding tight so he didn't fly off and have to catch up with a plane going 500 miles an hour again. The circle on the screen was now much larger and flashing. He was getting close.

"Sir… srupting…uit…" said JARVIS.

"Come again, J?" barked Tony.

"…dis…ting… the _suit_…"

"Oh, shit," said Tony, realizing that the device was so powerful up close that it was disrupting the function of the suit.

He didn't feel anything wrong with the controls. His display flickered once every few seconds, but the device didn't seem to affect any other elements of the armor. It must have had to do with the cycles of the emission. The flicker rate was the same in his chest piece.

The fuel tank door was magnetically sealed. It could only be opened when the engines were off. Tony forced the fingers of his gauntlet under the edge of the steel door and lifted, but he almost lost his grip on the plane as it shuddered.

"What the fucking hell was that?" he cried.

"…on't kno…George could…e…damage…"

"What? No, never mind. I'll find out when I'm done here. Hang on, JARVIS," said Tony, forcibly removing the door from the tank.

It hung on its hinges, flopping awkwardly in the wind. Tony was about to remove the rubber seal that covered the fuel tank's opening when his HUD flashed bright red.

"On… or, sir," said JARVIS, garbled.

"The door?" repeated Tony.

"Yes, sir."

The display was failing. JARVIS couldn't speak clearly. The plane was making an unusually strained noise. Tony was hanging off of a plane in full flight by his toes and one hand. He didn't think to be delicate about the removal of the device. He tore the 12 inch square of steel off the hinges and threw it violently towards the ground.

"That rubber better hold," he said to himself.

In seconds, the HUD was vividly displaying everything around Tony. And everything was red.

"TONY!" came a voice in his ear.

"Bruce?"

"You gotta get your ass back in here!"

"Why?" said Tony, crawling up the wing to the door.

"We're going down."

"What? Open the door!"

He was inside the plane again in a matter of seconds, kicking it shut behind him as his helmet opened so he could see Bruce.

"Everything came back online the second you did whatever you did and everything was red!" cried Bruce, wiping a line of sweat off his face.

"Yeah, mine too. Why?"

"We're out of fuel," called George through the open cockpit door.

"How is that fucking possible?" cried Tony, betraying a level of panic few ever saw.

Bruce's hands were shaking as he said, "They must have emptied it when they were supposed to refuel it and the EMI device was to keep us from finding out until we were dead."

"Bruce," said Tony, grabbing his arm, "are you okay?"

Bruce closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He nodded on the exhale.

"Yeah," he breathed. "Just gotta remember I'm needed in a crisis and I can handle this."

"Good," said Tony. "I trust you, but you gotta help me. We good?"

Bruce managed a small smile. "We're good."

"Now," said Tony, striding to the cockpit, "what can you do, George?"

"I can crash land this bitch if she'll let me," said George, gripping the controls so hard his hands were vividly red and white.

"Okay, if conditions are favorable, you can do that safely?"

"Oh, I'm sure I could manage it. Didn't you design your plane for dangerous conditions, Mr. Stark?" George smirked over his shoulder.

"But if worse comes to worse, we can rocket out of here in suits," said Bruce, suddenly joining them. The pair looked at him in shock. "We'd carry George, right?" he added, suddenly sheepish.

Tony smirked. "That's plan Z," he said, patting Bruce's shoulder with a big metal hand. "We have faith in you, George."

"Good. Now, you two sit down and buckle up and don't bother me," said George through gritted teeth.

For the first time, the ground could be seen through the windshield and it was far more terrifying than anyone expected it to be.

"Right," said Tony, escorting Bruce to the cabin.

It was comical for Iron Man to sit down and fasten his seat belt, but there weren't a lot of options. Tony grabbed a bottle of scotch to make the most of it.

"JARVIS," he said between sips, "can you find George a safe landing place and guide him to it?"

"Of course, sir. Good luck," said the computer, something akin to human fear in his voice.

Tony and Bruce could hear him pointing out possible landing locations to George through the still-open cockpit door, all the while, the landscape below loomed in the glass.

"I'm having flashbacks, Tony," said Bruce, suddenly.

Tony looked at him. "What?"

"To the helicarrier. To… To Agent Romanoff. What I… what the Other Guy almost did to her…" he mumbled, biting his lip in a nervous way Tony hadn't seen yet.

He gripped the seat's armrests tightly as the plane vibrated, and his normally soft brown eyes were suddenly sharp. They reflected Tony's helmet-framed face back at him.

"I really need you to stay white right now," said Tony, trying to keep his tone light.

Bruce tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace. "I know. I've just always hated planes and… the other guy, he… he makes it worse. And now I've been on two flights that have almost crashed within six months. It's a little traumatic."

Tony chuckled. "I didn't think of that. You're right. But hey, both times I flew out and fixed it, remember?"

"Did you?"

"Oh, I guess you don't remember," said Tony. "I saved the helicarrier from crashing."

"Oh…" Bruce looked both impressed and annoyed.

"Well, me and the Star-Spangled Virgin," Tony quickly added, pointedly ignoring the strained shudder the plane just gave.

For a moment, Bruce's struggles were forgotten and he laughed out loud.

"Yeah, it was awesome," said Tony, realizing he was on to something. He gestured dramatically from his seat. "The blades were obstructed in the blast. Cap and me went out to see what could be done. He had to do some fancy hotwiring, which was pretty impressive, considering the most he knew about circuits was that they existed."

Bruce chuckled as the plane groaned dangerously.

"I almost got turned into potato salad, stuck inside the world's largest Cuisinart, while Cap had to battle Loki's love-slaves-in-SHIELD's-clothing."

"Sounds exciting," said Bruce, leaning back in his seat.

Tony noted that his grip on the arm rests had relaxed.

"You have no idea," he said, smirking at Bruce. "Well, maybe you do. Tell you what!"

"What?"

"How about the next time we go somewhere, we go by train?"

"No offense, Tony, but I plane on disappearing for a while after this," said Bruce, closing his eyes and resting his head on the seat.

Tony was glad Bruce couldn't see the disappointment on his face.

"I know," he said, trying to sound light. "But later. When you come back to visit."

Bruce smiled at this.

"It can be just you, me and Pepper, and we can take a train through the Rockies, or up the Oregon coast. Something peaceful, just for you," added Tony, trying not to babble, which he was. "Or just you and me."

"You and me?" repeated Bruce, opening one eye and focusing it on Tony.

"You know, a manly… er, outdoor… fishing… thing…"

Bruce sat up and smirked. "I refuse to belie – "

The world roared. Everything hurt. Everything was sound.

Bruce cried out, his arms and legs flopping out around him. The belt around Iron Man gave way and Tony flew head over heels through the cabin, breaking light fixtures. George hollered something unintelligible from the cockpit.

"Son of a cock-loving whore!" cried Tony from somewhere near the lavatory.

"Are you boys okay?" hollered George.

"Fine, I guess," groaned Bruce, struggling to free himself from the safety belt.

"What the fuck, George?" cried Tony. "You said you'd land safely!"

"And I said, 'if this bitch lets me'!" George bit back. "As you can see, she had other plans!"

"Where are we?" said Bruce, rising and collapsing on his knees.

George appeared from the cockpit and grabbed his elbow.

"Somewhere German," he said. "Austria?"

"We're 9.6 miles north of the city of Salzburg, sirs," said JARVIS. "It was the biggest clearing near a city I could find within our range."

"How'd we get all the way to Austria?" asked Bruce, hobbling to the back of the cabin, from which Tony had yet to emerge.

"Got turned around in the confusion," said George, a little sheepishly.

"Tony!" hollered Bruce.

"Under here," groaned Tony.

"Where? Oh, god!" cried Bruce. "See, this is why you don't have a porcelain toilet on a plane!"

The Iron Man armor had tumbled to the bathroom and crashed through the toilet with Tony inside. Water was spraying everywhere, obstructing the view of Tony's prone form.

"Please tell me that's clean water," said George.

"Water only flows through the toilet one way, George," said Bruce, biting back his frustration. "Tony's the only person I know who'd have a fully functioning porcelain commode aboard a goddamned airplane."

He knelt by Tony, holding up an arm to block the water.

"All the times I wound up collapsed under a plumbing fixture," said Tony, reaching an arm up to touch Bruce's shoulder, "winding up _in_ the fixture's a first for me."

Bruce chuckled. "Good to know. Now let's get you out of it."

He grabbed Tony's other arm and pulled and Tony cried out in pain.

"Shit," gasped Bruce, recoiling. "Are you hurt?"

"Guess so," said Tony, wriggling in place. "I think my shoulder's dislocated."

"Great," said Bruce. "Could be worse."

He turned a knob, stopping the water flow to the broken fixture and Tony was now fully visible to them. He was on his back, a pile of broken black porcelain lying over his stomach; his legs where up in the air, supported by the wall. JARVIS had closed his helmet during the crash, thankfully, saving Tony's face from injury and toilet water.

It was a struggle to get him up out of such an awkward position and in such a small space, but Bruce and George succeeded.

"Oh-yeah-dislocated-if-not-broken-or-severed-and-chopped-into-Yankee-dogs-and-fed-to-New-Yorkers-god-stop!" said Tony in one breathless groan.

They stopped and he stood there, clutching his shoulder through the suit.

"Tony," said Bruce, "let's get the suit off so I can check that out."

"You just wanna see me naked," choked Tony.

"I'm serious. I can get it back into place. It's not that hard."

"No!" cried Tony, whipping around with the intent to go back into the bathroom. "I feel great!"

"Tony!"

Bruce grabbed the suit's shoulders and cried, "JARVIS, release the suit!"

"Override protocol?" said JARVIS.

"Johnnie Walker!"

The suit folded open and removed itself from Tony, collapsing empty on the floor by the bathroom.

"Fuck you, Banner!" yelled Tony. "Who told you that?!"

"Pepper!" barked Bruce. "For emergencies! Now let me see that shoulder!"

"No, call an ambulance or something, no!" said Tony, clutching his injured shoulder.

Bruce was relieved there were no visible injuries on Tony, but just looking at his shoulder made his stomach turn. It was definitely dislocated.

"Our comm. system's out, Mr. Stark," said George, who had been watching silently until now. "We can't contact anyone. And we're more or less in the middle of nowhere!"

"I need to fix your shoulder," said Bruce. "George, bring me one of his bottles, please."

"Bottles…? Oh, right."

George disappeared and returned with a bottle of scotch.

"Drink some, Tony," said Bruce, handing him the open bottle.

"It's warm!"

"I swear to god, Tony, if you don't…!"

Tony saw something in Bruce's eyes that convinced him to take the bottle. He downed a third of it in one swig.

Bruce gritted his teeth, thinking about what he was going to do next.

When the bottle was more than half empty, Bruce grabbed Tony, shoving his hard against the wall in a swift motion. With his upper body strength and sheer determination, he popped Tony's shoulder back into alignment. It wouldn't be moral to reproduce the cry of pain Tony made.

He collapsed on the floor, gasping.

"How'd you do that?" he said, sucking air and scotch alternately.

Bruce smirked. "I told you, I've done this before."

Tony chuckled softly, reaching into his pocket and retrieving his cracked phone. The address in Salzburg flashed briefly on the screen before the machine died entirely.

Bruce felt in his pockets, but he couldn't find his phone anywhere. It had been left on the table before the incident and was now lost in the crash.

"Both suits are wrecked," he said. "Our phones are dead. The plane's dead _and_ wrecked. Looks like we're walking to Salzburg."

Tony stood, shaking. The bottle hit the floor and broke. "Yup," he croaked. "We have someone to see, don't we?"

Bruce and George nodded.

"Come on, Banner. The game is afoot."

**A/N**

**Wow, this is my longest chapter yet. Huh. Sorry, I guess? I was typing faster than I read in the last part, on the edge of my seat, like, what's gonna happen next? Literally, I made it up as I went. XD**

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